Pretty Unpretty
by orator
Summary: A lifelong combination of suppressed rage and ignored beauty can lead to unsavory decisions and down destructive paths. The question is, who will burn with her? (AU) Rachel x Young Do.
1. So be it

There was no appreciation for beauty.

Being pretty didn't mean anything.

Being pretty meant nothing. _At all._

People thought her life was easy because she had money. Lots of it. Intelligence. Scarily so. Power. As much as she could maintain. And beauty. But that beauty was a scar. It had no power. In fact, her beauty was a weakness.

Being pretty led to assumptions. Some, garnered by jealous onlookers and observers. Others, of her own creation.

Being pretty hadn't worked out for her. Yet her beauty was the one thing she possessed wholly. Even if she did something drastic, her beauty would stay. If only for a few decades. But those were the decades which would matter.

Her beauty was cold. Harsh. Every inch of softness she had—she worked hard to diminish. If those _boys_ could use their beauty as fronts for savagery, then why shouldn't she?

Beauty hadn't made Kim Tan stay. It was one of the things he actively ignored. He was indifferent to it. Completely detached from it.

All her life she'd been praised for her prettiness. By strangers in the street. By her mother. By her father. By her…friends. Well, they had been friends. But now, it felt like lies and mockery.

And every time she was complimented, she wanted to scream and rage. Scream until her throat was raw.

"YOU WANT MY BEAUTY? TAKE IT. IT'S DONE NOTHING FOR ME. NO ONE APPRECIATES IT. LESSER GIRLS, AVERAGE GIRLS HAVE MORE THAN I DO. MY BEAUTY IS WORTHLESS. I AM WORTHLESS. I AM NOTHING. HE DIDN'T WANT ME. THEN I MET ANOTHER HIM. HE DIDN'T WANT ME EITHER. NO ONE WANTS ME."

But she swallowed it. Swallowed her screams. Kim Tan didn't want her. Hyo Shin didn't want her. That was worse, because he at least possessed a conscience. But that conscience made him go back to his _tutor-love._

Who wanted her? No one.

But _no,_ she refused to bow down. She wasn't worthless. _They _were worthless. They wanted plain, average, _simple_, _natural_ girls? So be it. She wouldn't relent.

She'd be the one to make them bow down.


	2. Give him the world

She started to wear red lipstick more often. Partly because she knew Kim Tan didn't like it. But it also made her feel dangerous. When she wore it, people didn't know where to look—her eyes or her mouth.

She liked that from far away it looked like she had a red gash on her pale face. Close up it looked like a rose on her mouth.

He'd told her once, when they were younger. When she thought there was some semblance of affection. When she would've given him the world.

When she'd worn pale gold eye shadow in front of him. She'd thought it complemented her fair skin tone, and made her eyes look cat-like.

"I don't like it when girls wear makeup. It's fake. I like natural beauty." She'd felt her heart drop. Did it mean he didn't like _her?_ After that, she didn't wear makeup around him anymore.

It hadn't made a difference. He never kissed her anyways. Every girl wanted a tall, handsome, rich fiance. She'd had one. Except he didn't want to kiss her. He'd wanted to kiss another girl.

She was pretty. But she wanted to be so beautiful that _all those stupid boys _would fall on their knees and wail at their stupidities.

These were superficial, cruel, vapid fantasies.

But who could blame her? Her fiancé. Had. Left. Her. For. Another. Girl. There was no crueler way to say "**you're** _not_ good enough for** me**" than to leave her for another girl. She'd learned cruelty at Kim Tan's metaphorical knees.

If he'd told her it was too much pressure, she would've understood. If he'd told her, "I don't feel the same", she would've understood. Even if he'd said, "You're not my type", she'd have tried to understand. He had done none of those things. He'd simply crushed her. And then not only that, he'd left her for another girl.

A girl, who she grudging, reluctantly admitted was cute, but painfully, plainly so. In terms of beauty, Eun Sang was fresh-faced and non-threatening, bordering on adorable. Rachel was slick, sharp, and intimidating, even in her softness. She wanted to be terrifying in her beauty. She wanted to twist the hearts of all the boys who'd crushed hers.

He could go kiss the other girl then. She wouldn't waste her Chanel Rouge Allure on him. She'd wait. She'd find a worthwhile boy. Who wouldn't mind red lipstick and eyeliner. Who would understand none of it was _really_ for him. It was for herself.

And when she met him, she'd cover his mouth with her precious red lipstick, and give him the world.


	3. She was better off

Rachel thought about boys too much. Since Kim Tan, she felt used and abused. Sure, her personality left a lot to be desired sometimes. She could be vicious. But so could he. She could be disparaging. But so could he. She could be generally terrible. But so he could he.

Was it her personality? Or was it her looks? Was it both? Rachel observed all the girls she knew. She observed all the boys she knew. They all liked sweetness. Softness. Simplicity. Even Lee Bo Na with all her pretensions and highhandedness, and sometimes straight up bitchiness, was able to sustain an enviable relationship with a half-decent guy.

Hyo-Shin had continued his flirtations with her. But it had gone nowhere. After their mutual kiss, his inhibitions had resurfaced. She also didn't like to think about why he'd actually kissed her, because he'd told her. She'd done it in her foolhardiness to enrage Tan. He'd done it to hurt his "first love". His first love, which had been rekindled, when he found her broken and willing to let him fix the pieces.

It was enough to make Rachel scream. Sometimes she read those stupid magazines, catered to the common woman with her common problems and low-class issues. They all encouraged making the first move. Rachel knew she was better than this. Both times, she had made the first move. And both times she had been rejected.

Rachel Yoo, the Ice Queen. Rachel Yoo, desired but untouched.

She'd tried to make herself sweet. It felt unnatural. Like an ill-fitting pair of heels.

What was it about Cha Eun Sang? Should Rachel wear her weaknesses on her shoulder, and then have everyone play her knight in shining armor?

Rachel didn't like to think about Cha Eun Sang. But she did. It felt like rubbing actual salt on her festering wound. Initially she'd immediately blamed Eun Sang for everything. But, really it was all Tan. However, while he initiated it, Eun Sang had maintained it.

And Rachel could tell. They'd stay together forever. It wasn't just their true-love-beats-all love story. But she could the energy radiating off of them when they'd walk around. The chemistry was palpable. Tan had only gotten physical with her once, but he certainly had no hesitations with Eun Sang. Rachel could feel it. And that was probably the thing that pierced her heart and left her in tears, which she swallowed down, like her screams.

These were boys. Boys were supposed to be simple with one track minds. Rachel with her perfect waist, smooth skin, shapely legs, and impeccable dressing could not attract a boy past two kisses, while Eun Sang in all her glorified plainness, not only had Tan enamored, but also Young Do.

That was another thing she didn't understand. Young Do was frighteningly astute. He knew astoundingly more than he let on. He put up a front of a sociopath, and then later an obsessed buffoon. But she knew it was all an act. Young Do was bored and liked challenges.

When she was younger, and had only newly cemented her status as Tan's fiance, she remembered Young Do and his stares. He would look at her as if she was an art installation he understood but was unimpressed by.

He never spoke to her. But he was aware of her. He never approached her. But she would feel his eyes on her.

And then when he finally spoke to her, the conversation was full of mockery, raised eyebrows, and barely suppressed condescension.

Kim Tan had trampled over her feelings and her pride. He'd melted the ice within her core, which she'd cultivated and crafted diligently. But without that ice, there was nothing. It was worse than being numb.

Yet, she never learned her lesson. Kim Tan hadn't been enough to end her masochistic streak. Hyo-shin despite his best efforts not to do so, had damaged her as well.

And still Rachel didn't learn her lesson. Because she still held hope. She still felt optimistic she wouldn't end up like her mother.

She'd convinced herself that perhaps good things would come her way. Maybe she'd meet an American. Or a Japanese boy. Or a wealth surfer boy from Australia.

Maybe the boys she knew couldn't handle her. Yoo Rachel with her severity and her high heels. If they didn't want her, she didn't want them.

And although she felt like breaking down into wails and sobs when she saw Kim Tan, Rachel had managed to convince herself that she was better off without any of these worthless boys.

Right up until Choi Young Do decided to make his move.


	4. As badly as he'd screwed her

**AN: Four for you if you get the references, Glen Coco ; )**

Later when Rachel would look back, she'd conclude that they were both to blame. Did he make the move? Or did she? Or was it mutual? It didn't matter.

* * *

Rachel was getting ready. Another fundraiser. Another evening wasted. Another opportunity to see Tan and Eun Sang. Another night of disenchantment.

The only good thing was her dress and her shoes. She'd picked out a short white dress, made of lace. It made her look demure, but to offset the dress, she'd picked out her new spiked Louboutin Pigalles. She hadn't broken them in. But she'd worn heels since she was 14. She could handle physical pain.

Rachel was angry. She was being forced to go by her mother. If she wasn't going to get her way, she was going to dress her way. Her mood was bordering on murderous, and she wanted to match her mood. The coup de grace was Tom Ford's Rouge Fatal on her lips—a creamy red, which almost resembled blood. She wished she could spill Kim Tan's blood. But that was neither here nor there. She shook off her crazy thoughts; she'd been watching Kill Bill out of boredom. She wasn't Gogo Yubari. She was top of her class. She was an heiress. She was better than this. Although she wished she could screw Tan as badly as he'd screwed her.

Rachel put on the finishing touches and stared at her reflection. She was her own worst critic, but she looked good tonight.

Her mother only raised her eyebrows when she saw her outfit, but did not say anything. Except—she brought up boys in the car. Boys that Rachel should meet. Consider as new fiancés. Boys that would no doubt prove to be as useless as Tan or Hyo-Shin.

Sometimes Rachel scared even herself with the things that came out of her mouth, "RS International Heiress involved in Cocaine Scandal." Her mother stopped talking, confused, "What?"

"Underage Heiress Caught with Drugs" Rachel turned to look at her mother, who now understood what Rachel was implying, disbelief written on her face.

"I won't do anything I don't want to do, Mother. Especially after tonight. And if you make me, those headlines will greet you very soon…I've always wanted to try cocaine. I'll even have it filmed, like Kate Moss."

To her credit, her mother only rolled her eyes and scoffed. She was used to Rachel's antics and dramatics. "Sooner or later, you'll have to do it."

Rachel turned away, muttering, "I'd rather try cocaine first."

* * *

It was always the same. Stolid people. Repetitive conversations. Bored to tears had never rung truer.

She was bored. And furious. Her mother had tried to steer how towards some boys. Rachel had then told her mother she would grab that boy and have sex with him on videotape and have it distributed all over Korea. Her mother had been disgusted and allowed her to stomp away.

Kim Tan was there. Hyo-Shin was there. They were all there. Rachel didn't want to interact with them. Lee Bo Na in a tight dress that was made for a size 0, not a size 4. Eun Sang. Oh, the audacity. In some red dress. Clearly dressed by Tan. Young Do was there too. Lounging with Myung Soo, who kept hovering near some odd bowl of punch. Who catered this event? Who would put punch there?

Rachel checked her phone. An hour before she could leave. She was attracting looks, because while Bo Na's dress was tighter, Rachel's was shorter. Her shoes more dangerous. Her lips more striking. She knew who was checking her out, and it gave her no pleasure. She wasn't here to distract someone's boyfriend. That was Eun Sang's job. Rachel scoffed at her own sick joke.

The irony. Oh, the irony. Rachel could tell Kim Tan was looking at her too. And she'd made eye contact with him a few times, forcing him to look away quickly. His family was also hovering around. Too scared to approach Rachel. At least she hoped. The Kim family had too many wives in the attic for her to deal with, maybe fortune had smiled down upon her: there was the creepy principal ahjumma, who had an affinity for bows and no skill with walking in heels. There was the dead wife, who apparently haunted the Chairman. There was the decrepit old Chairman himself. And then one crazy lady, who may or may not have tried to burn the house down.

No, that was a novel. But if she'd given birth to Kim Tan, she could be capable of anything. Rachel shuddered.

It was irritating her though. She didn't appreciate being stared. Especially by Kim Tan.

She sighed. 45 minutes to go. A passing waiter stopped in front of her, offering a flute of some…drink. Rachel grabbed it, and downed it one gulp. She set the glass down and noticed she'd left her lipstick mark on it. She smiled slightly. What else could she leave her mark on? Rachel glanced around, and noticed Young Do looking at her. She nodded her head in acknowledgment, and he rose out of his sprawl, and strolled over to her.

"All alone on your own?" he drawled. Rachel blatantly rolled her eyes at him and gave him a withering look. He laughed, and lazily played with the rim of the glass she'd just emptied. "You know they can make music with this." She had no response for that, and looked away, her gaze settling on Eun Sang and Kim Tan. Why was she even here, but that question didn't even warrant an answer. The Eun Sangs of the world got everything they wanted simply on the basis of being good, simple girls. Hyo-Shin's Han Ji, or Hyun Ji, or whatever her name was, had been exactly the same.

Rachel turned back to Young Do, who'd been watching her with his head tilted to the side, still toying with the glass. She met his eyes, and felt a jolt.

He looked unnecessarily handsome. He was one of the few boys who could carry a suit. Even Kim Tan, with his height and stature, looked like a baby in a suit. Young Do, with his jawline and cheekbones carried off the sleekness of a suit, with so much ease that it was unfair. His hair had been swept back in his usual coif. Setting him apart from all the other boys, as it had always done. He always looked crisp, clean, and sexy. Especially his hair. She found herself saying, "Your hair looks sexy pushed back." He stopped playing with the glass, and slowly straightened up. Although she wanted to, Rachel refused to feel embarrassment. He'd called _her_ sexy enough times, that _he_ should've felt embarrassment. Irregardless, she felt her cheeks turn warm. He grabbed a glass of water from the table, chugged it, and stood up. "Let's go outside. It's too stuffy in here."

She had nothing better to do, and nothing to lose. So she followed him outside.


	5. His Shoulders Her Hands

**A/N: I realize I'm uploading this way quickly than I should. But. Whatever. Enjoy.**

* * *

Rachel felt like she was hypnotized. The air on the balcony was warm, and there was a fragrance of jasmines, as well as Young Do's cologne.

Why did boys always smell so fresh and so clean?

Young Do led the way, and she followed silently.

There was a secluded spot near the corner, with a marble perch. Rachel leaned on it. Young Do settled down next to her. With her leaning, and him sitting, they were the same height, with her heels, that was. She'd wanted the smaller heel originally, but had changed her mind to 5 inches, loving the stretch they forced in her calves.

Rachel always imagined herself as taller than everyone, and never thought of herself as a small or petite person, until she was around Young Do. Next to him she was always aware of how...big he was. From his long legs to his broad shoulders. She always felt like a such a _girl_ next to him, utterly feminine, which was not how she particularly thought of herself.

He was quiet. But the silence didn't bother her. It was helping her control her mood. She looked down and realized that she had crossed her legs twice, tightly, and had clenched her hands into fists. She ignored her hands, but loosened her legs and shook them out. The Louboutins weren't broken in. She couldn't intentionally cause more pain to her legs. She stretched her legs, and slipped off her heels to curl back her toes. That relieved some of the pain from the ball of her foot. She did that to her other foot, and let out a small sigh.

He was still quiet. But now it was getting annoying. She glanced over at him, and saw that he'd been watching her whole exercise with raised eyebrows. He looked at her then, snorted, and rolled his eyes, and lit a cigarette. She hadn't thought of him as a person who smoked, but it fit him. Thoroughly.

"What?" Her voice came out sharp.

"Absolutely nothing." He smirked and shrugged.

Any amount of good humor she had immediately vanished.

Why had he even asked her to come out here? This was Young Do. Not some harmless, foolish boy. She knew better.

She had had enough of this wretched evening, from her dealings with her mother to Kim Tan's stares. Which had bothered her more than she wanted to acknowledge.

She'd wanted to throw something at him and scream "I am not yours. And never will be. You are not mine. Nor do I want you to be. Stop. Staring. At. Me." His stares implied something. And she didn't want to analyze exactly what.

Maybe Kim Tan had wanted her to react. To create some sort of scene.

She was more than ready to be given the opportunity to do so. She surprised herself sometimes-her self control was applaudable. Every time she saw Kim Tan, the urge to walk over to him and scratch his eyes out was overwhelming, yet she didn't.

Rachel had controlled her rage all evening. She liked that word. Rage. It aptly described how she felt. But she'd reached her breaking point, and found herself grinding her teeth. The last straw was Young Do's mockery.

Her voice was controlled flatness, as she got up, taking her shoes into her hand, "I'm going inside." And you can go fuck yourself, she thought silently.

He smirked, exhaling through his mouth, as if he knew what she wasn't saying. His expression didn't change as he took in her appearance, "What's wrong?"

Rachel ignored him, seething. She had no time for deliberate stupidity. But before she could take a few steps, he'd grabbed her by the arm and pulled her tight against his side, leaning his heavy arm around her shoulder.

Rachel didn't struggle because she knew how to use her voice. "Let go of me."

He looked down at her, and shifted his cigarette to the side of his mouth. "You're so tense all the time. Your shoulders feel like rocks." With that he turned her around, shifting her towards him, and started massaging her shoulders, his hands strong and soothing.

Out of all the logical and rational responses she could have made, hitting him being a highly appropriate one, the only one that escaped her mouth was "I've been like this since I was 13. There's no point."

But she wanted him to continue. He pulled her by the waist towards him, and she could feel him at her back. He moved his hands towards the back of her neck, and down her spine. She arched involuntarily and he brought his hands back to her shoulders, using his thumbs for extra pressure. Abruptly he stopped, and she opened her eyes, not knowing when she had closed them.

She heard the spark of a lighter, and his hands were back. "I wanted another cigarette."

If it had been anyone else, Rachel would have been able to rationalize it. But it wasn't anyone. It was Choi Young Do.

She was confused. And lightheaded. Why was he doing this, touching her so intimately? She only wanted affection like this from someone who liked her. Not for kicks.

"What are you doing?" Her voice came out too breathy, sounding...suggestive. It all felt strange. The heat emanating from his body. The warm breeze. His hands warmer. His intoxicating cologne. His shoulders had looked impressive in his suit. His hair swept back. She felt dizzy, like under a spell.

There was silence for a few seconds. Then she heard him inhale sharply. "I saw my mother."

There was a pause.

Then Rachel swiftly spun around, Young Do's hands falling off her shoulders, between them. His cigarette was almost finished. She yanked it out of his mouth and threw it on the ground. He blinked at her in surprise, looking more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. Even when his father had slapped him in front of them.

She cleared her throat, before asking, "how are...how was it-how are you?" He kept his eyes downwards; brows furrowed, and said "I'm...okay." It was the quietest she'd ever seen him.

If he wasn't Choi Young Do, she would've said he looked fragile, even.

She felt her heart fill up with...something. It wasn't sadness, nor pity, but something close to it. And her protective instincts rose.

Instincts that she hadn't learned to control despite being taught terrible lessons, not just by one, but two different boys. And these instincts extended toward this new boy.

"Oh, Young Do" Rachel whispered, and he slowly lifted his head, looking into her eyes. His mouth unhappy, his eyes full, her heart was full.

Rachel's body had abandoned her brain, and vice versa.

The next she thing she knew, she'd leaned forward, her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him. He had full lips. And they were soft, under hers.

She kissed him like she meant it, like he needed it. She kissed him so that she could take some of his pain away. As if she had any right. She tried to express all that she could in that kiss, and later she would wonder what exactly that was.

Rachel didn't know if she'd kissed him for 2 minutes or 2 seconds. Her lips. His mouth. His shoulders. Her hands.

She'd been leaning towards him, perched on her knees, but drew away when she heard voices. That broke the spell that he'd cast since he'd first sat down with her—and she realized what she'd just done. What had just happened.

He was looking at her, in a way he'd never looked at her. He started to say something, but she didn't let him finish and slid off her perch, picking up her shoes, and walking away quickly, bumping into a tipsy Myung Soo, who weaved his way towards Young Do.

She paused in the doorway, trying to calm herself—before heading out into the crowd—before she actually gave into tears, trying to hold on until she was safely in her room—before the one thought that had been screaming and demanding for her attention—from the moment her lips had fully touched his, till the moment right before she stopped kissing him—engulfed her completely: he hadn't kissed her back.

She'd kissed him, and he hadn't kissed her back.

The last thing she registered before she left in a haze of tears was Myung Soo drunkenly utter, "Ya! Choi Young Do, have you been drinking the punch too? I spiked it! My tongue is red! How much did you drink?! Your whole mouth is red!"

She'd left her mark.


	6. Destroy Someone's Heart

**AN: Wow. I write a lot. But, you know, go with the flow, all that. Also, thank you for the reviews! Especially, Devilish! 3 Also, I update this story on tumblr as .com. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Rachel went through several introspective breakdowns that weekend. She didn't let her mother know. These were own consequences to deal with.

* * *

She didn't believe in over-indulging. There was something satisfying about restraint and self-control.

Especially self-control over her impulses and instincts.

She'd indulged herself last night. Thoroughly. She'd followed her instincts and kissed Young Do. And…what gratification had that brought her? None.

She knew now what it felt like to kiss him—nice. She knew now he had strong shoulders. She knew now…no, she'd always known…he liked to play games, and clearly he had some sort of game plan.

Rachel tried to resist, and then also succumbed to wallowing in self-pity. Wallowing was another indulgence she rarely allowed herself.

She was rich, thin, pretty. She was excessively privileged. She had no reasons to complain. And 80% of the time, she didn't.

Tan had told her once that she was only pretty on the outside, and completely repulsive on the inside.

She admitted she'd done heinous things. And sometimes she felt ashamed. But, she was the only one still paying for them.

Despite his atrocious behavior, Tan had been accepted back with open arms.

Before his princely return which showed how he'd turned a 180, she remembered how he'd pick on one boy—Baik Jung, and hit him with a metal spoon on the forehead, hard, every day, every hour.

Among the usual body slamming, punching, hitting; mindful violence.

It was comical, in a horrifying way—the boy had gained a permanent bruise on his forehead, and started to suffer from migraines. He transferred out after a month, and no one was sad to see Harry Potter go.

Except for Rachel.

She'd never spoken to him or anything. But she would witness this scene everyday because Baik Jung's locker was next to hers. Sometimes he'd be left holding his head, slumped on the floor.

She'd helped him up once, because he'd turned sweaty and pale. He'd been too disoriented to thank her.

The daily incidents left her shaken. She'd felt relief for Baik Jung when he left.

She'd been thinking about him frequently these days.

Because Tan had returned—and although he'd given up his violent ways, Young Do not withstanding—he'd used the exact form of torture on her.

Niggling away at her sanity. Attacking her vanity. Criticizing her.

Telling her constantly how selfish, annoying, hateful, mean, bitchy, cruel she was.

She'd never sympathized with Baik Jung more, because she'd become Tan's new Baik Jung.

—

Rachel then halfheartedly watched a movie, called Helter Skelter. The first lead looked like an angel, but was fucked up to the core. Rachel wanted to be like that—appear serene and saccharine before striking. Hard. Except the movie ended badly for Lilico.

Rachel thought of Lilico's cruelties. Then she thought of her own cruelties. And then thought of everyone else's:

Lee Bo Na, in one of their rare instances of friendship, had complained about some annoying girl who was always monopolizing Chan Young's time and how she hated it and the girl so much. Lee Bo Na had wished the girl would kill herself, because "she's depressed anyways so it doesn't matter". Rachel wasn't sure about the depression, but that girl was now Tan's.

Ye Sol, who still couldn't stop throwing stones, when she didn't even have a glass slipper to her name, would still huff and puff and mutter something nasty whenever Rachel was around.

Eun Sang…oh Eun Sang. Rachel had pulled her hair and slapped her. And she'd taken it. Rachel was sick of Eun Sang. She didn't want to think of her. Talk of her. Why couldn't she just disappear with Tan?

Kim Tan was a master unto the art of cruelty itself.

Rachel decided to draw lines for herself. She couldn't stop being a bitch just the way she couldn't change her shoe size. But she could stop being petty. Maybe her whole life up to this point was one big punishment for her past sins.

But they were all sinners like her. She was the only one being singled out.

And then she'd gone and kissed the biggest sinner of them all.

* * *

Rachel didn't know how to cry properly. She could only manage tears running down her face.

She'd seen Eun Sang crying once, it had been a thing of beauty, with lips quivering, shoulders shuddering, outright sobbing. A proper catharsis.

Rachel had never envied anyone as much as she envied Eun Sang at that moment.

Maybe that was her problem. Maybe that's why boys didn't like her.

Maybe that's why people hated her more so than necessary. Why she was so…stunted—because she couldn't cry. She'd held onto her emotions too long.

She could only express herself through suppressed screams and shallow shallow meanness towards other dumb girls.

* * *

Rachel didn't like displaying her emotions. She tried to keep a poker face, but either always looked miserable or bitchy. If she felt more wretched than usual, no one could tell. Her bitchface was her resting face.

* * *

Rachel then went shopping.

She needed a distraction. Maybe watching a movie about the obsession with beauty wasn't the best idea.

She wasn't in the best state, to begin with. She didn't want to internalize even more toxic ideas about beauty.

She was already filled to the brim with self-administered poison about her looks. About herself.

It didn't help when everyone would call her beautiful or pretty or compliment her in some way. That allowed her to think that prettiness meant something. Or that it granted her something. It didn't.

Who wanted prettiness then? Rachel always had freedom, and she never ever ever dressed for boys. But being someone's fiancé, and someone's girlfriend came with respective expectations. About how to dress. How to act.

She didn't care what Tan thought. He once wore a full white suit. He'd never looked more like the Chairman's son.

But she suspected Hyo-Shin had been a little scared of her. Hyun Ji, or whatever her name was, personified the word fragile. She was delicate limbs and doe eyes. Rachel didn't want to be that.

Tan didn't want to handle her. Hyo-Shin couldn't handle her.

Rachel decided to buy heels again. She had no specific shoes in mind—until she found them—perfectly reflecting her current state: black stilettos with a padlock on the ankle straps.

When Rachel tried them on, she moaned and gasped when she saw herself in the mirror.

Tom Ford may not have been into women, but he knew how to design for them. Her legs had never looked shapelier, longer, sexier.

Rachel was salivating over her own legs—she didn't need anybody's approval.

"If only Young Do could see me now," the thought sprang up, unbidden.

This was a weekend of indulgences. She acknowledged that he hadn't kissed her back. She knew he had maintained radio silence.

She knew, but she wasn't going to dwell on it. It would be less painful to run a cheese grater over her arm.

Young Do should've been beating down her door or staked out outside her room. He should've been quaking in his shoes. He should've scaling the walls. But he did none of those things.

He could ignore her then. Do whatever he wanted. Go according to whatever plan he had.

Rachel kept looking at herself in the mirror and felt increasingly better. Prettiness was overrated, but beauty wasn't. Beauty meant power.

Who cared about these stupid, obviously blind, cowardly boys?

Her legs looked more sinful than her past sins. She felt dangerous. She felt like she could conquer the world. She wanted to destroy someone's heart. Trample it with these heels.

Beauty might be superficial and skin deep, but it wasn't like any of these shitty boys were living up to her standards. The shoes were.

She hadn't said it, but she should've: Young Do could go fuck himself, and so could the others.

She decided to wear the shoes right then, and go to her favorite sushi place. She didn't need anyone.

* * *

She got home early that evening. Her shoes had attracted a lot of stares, but this time she didn't mind. She enjoyed it.

She flung her bag on her bed, and her phone slipped out. She hadn't been checking it, she'd been too busy checking herself out.

There was a text message.

She opened it up, and all thoughts of sexy legs and sexy shoes and worthless boys fled her mind, her heart beating fast—

The text was from Young Do:

_We need to talk._


	7. Sarcasm, Threats, or Innuendo

Rachel threw her phone across her bed, as if she'd been scalded.

She stood there for a few minutes, mind completely blank. She needed to process this…whatever…this was. Surprisingly she felt her heart rate calm, but her stomach was still quivery.

He wanted to talk. He waited until Sunday night, 7:59 pm to text her.

She'd left him at 11:59 pm, Friday night. One minute shy of being Cinderella. He wasn't Prince Charming though.

Rachel's mind was whirring—he'd taken his sweet, slow time.

Her hands felt numb. She laid down on her bed and decided to rationalize through this…problem:

1. Young Do had sought her out.  
2. He'd been staring at her. Not in the usual way people tended to stare at her: a mixture of envy, disapproval, and appreciation. He'd been staring at her the way a boy who likes a girl would stare.  
3. She'd called him sexy. Correction, she'd called his hair sexy.  
4. He'd taken her outside.  
5. He'd smelled incredible.  
6. She'd stretched her legs. He'd watched.  
7. The massage. Even now it made her simultaneously cringe and make her heart flutter.  
8. The confession about his mother.

That's where it began. She'd been shocked. Her heart went out to him. He'd only mentioned his mother once.

Just once. He hadn't said why she'd left. And his voice had been too raw for her to ask. His eyes too restless. His mood too volatile. She hadn't dared to.

He _had_ told her though that he'd just been rejected by Eun Sang. For real this time.

She remembered feeling incredulous that he thought she'd be interested in his sordid, one-sided love affairs.

It was the most he'd ever said to her that wasn't rife with sarcasm, threats, or innuendo. Except it had ended in near disaster.

* * *

He'd run into her when she was on her way to a fitting for dresses she'd ordered. Normally she wouldn't do it in public, but she'd needed to get out of her house, out of her mind, out of her thoughts. She'd needed to make herself feel better.

He'd been wandering around aimlessly, holding a pair of mustard yellow Tod's loafers. She'd seen him on the escalator. He'd called her name, loud, and she'd let him tag along. He'd asked if she liked the shoes, then bought them.

They'd attracted attention—they looked like a couple. And he was behaving like a boyfriend would: holding her bag when she didn't know where to put it, taking her coat when she felt hot.

He had a habit of crowding her. Guiding her by the waist. Touching her shoulder. Letting her walk first. Opening doors for her.

At one point she'd stumbled and he'd steadied her with his arm, and kept it on her for a few moments longer than necessary. He was always like this.

A group of teenage girls had passed by, future Lee Bo Nas in the making—and although _he _was deaf, dumb, and obviously oblivious, she wasn't.

She'd heard them whisper among themselves about what a good looking couple they made, and how they wanted an oppa who was tall and handsome to match how petite and pretty she was.

Rachel remembered studying Young Do, who looked every inch the beleaguered boyfriend at that moment, forced to take his girlfriend shopping, so bored that he was playing a game on his phone, surrounded by bags—which she'd wanted delivered to her house, but he'd insisted on carrying for her.

She'd felt amused at the picture they presented: with his _stupid_ fringe, he looked nice and approachable. No one could tell what he was capable of.

As for Rachel herself, she probably looked like an adored, happy girlfriend, not a sullen, bitter, angry girl with one failed engagement and one failed fling under her belt.

With the way Young Do was behaving no one could tell he could be a monster, or that she was no better.

At least Young Do had the excuse of his frightening personality to explain why he wasn't in a relationship, even with his looks. Rachel was bad. But not that bad. Yet she couldn't get boys to stay. What was her excuse?

Ha! The idea of them as a couple. It was laughable. Not because he was Young Do, but because _she_ was Rachel. Unlovable. Unlikable.

Her amusement began fading away. She headed towards the dressing room reserved for her, not caring if he followed or not.

He did though. Of course he did. He'd been following her around like a little puppy, except he was more of a wolf.

He came into the well-lit, fully mirrored fitting area, and flopped down onto a chair, looking around as he did so.

"You have so many clothes. Why do you need more?" He whined.

She ignored him. He was the one who'd come along. She hadn't asked him to. He obviously had nothing better to do.

There were a few dresses set up for her, and she was in the middle of zipping up a short Proenza Schouler leather and silk number when she realized she didn't have enough hands.

She stuck her head out and looked for an attendant or sales assistant.

There were none—because she'd requested for there to be none. She hadn't wanted to be bothered by eager assistances slavering over, buttering her up.

She exhaled deeply, annoyed with everything. She had two options: either make Young Do find one, or make Young Do help her.

She decided to ask him, and pick whichever would irritate her less.

He opted to help; clearly lying and saying there were no sales assistants on the floor.

He hadn't even _looked_. He hadn't even turned his head. He'd been using his phone the whole time.

She swallowed a curse. She needed his help either way. The dress was fitted for her exact measurements, it couldn't simply be thrown on, which is what she'd done. She was not in a position to go look for one: the dress could either be taken off or put on. And she couldn't do it by herself.

"Come help me then!" Now she was the one whining.

He put his phone away, and walked into the dressing room. Even though it was big, with a leather sofa, and a small table with water, it seemed to shrink when he came in.

He looked at her and scoffed. "What is this? Are you trying to seduce me? I never thought of you as a white lace girl."

He could see her underwear.

She felt her face turn red and heat up. He did too, because he met her eyes in the mirror…and his expression softened.

She was horrified but refused to let him see it. "Either help me or get out" she snapped.

Thankfully he didn't say anything else stupid. He walked over to her, and tried to help her slip the dress over her head. It didn't work—the dress got stuck near her shoulders, covering her head, leaving her arms stuck in the air. She tried to pull it off, but he stopped her.

"Aish, hold on, you'll tear it" he said quietly. He steadied her by the waist, and through some form of magic, maneuvered the dress off her.

She blinked at the sudden light, and saw her reflection in the mirror. Her in her lace underwear set, which made her feel like a princess. Him behind her, in his trademark black leather jacket.

Their eyes met again.

She turned around, mortified, except that did nothing to hide her—he got a close up instead, and while he did avert his eyes, he did give her a once-over.

She stood paralyzed, before him. In her underwear. As if she was offering herself to him.

If she died from embarrassment, it would be too much to hope for.

He made a point of only looking in her eyes then, and gently asked "Do you want to try it again?"

She debated—her desire for the dress winning over her humiliation. Also, she was still in her underwear and needed to put _something_ on.

She could only give a mute nod.

He nodded back. He turned her around, and helped her into the dress this time. It required special care; she had to put one strap first, then the middle portion, then the second strap.

He was surprisingly attentive and fixed the straps for her, and zipped her up.

He wore suits well, she remembered, everything always meticulous and in place—he knew how to do these things.

They finally got the dress on, and he held her hand and twirled her around. "Impressive" he said, with a wink.

She rolled her eyes yet couldn't help smiling; the dress fit her perfectly and showed off her shoulders nicely.

Now to take it off. He read her mind, and unzipped and disentangled her. And once again she was in her underwear.

This time he promptly turned around, and looked at his phone, "I'm going to sit in here—you're going to rip those dresses if I don't help."

She got over her embarrassment then. He was acting normal, so she was able to as well. And he wasn't affected by the sight of her, so it didn't feel…as if she was…undressing for him. It was comfortable.

The next few dresses didn't require as much help, and he remained immersed in his phone, occasionally commenting if he liked something.

Despite the impropriety of the situation, it was almost wholesome…and fun. Young Do would ask when he could look. Or if he did look, it was never inappropriate. She might as well have been a boy.

Until the last dress.

Rachel knew she had a nice figure. She was proportionate and fit. Her back was her favorite part; next to her legs.

The last dress was a white Gucci backless. It was only when she tried it on did she realize_how_ backless.

It was full sleeved, till her knees, so it looked modest from the front. When she turned around however: her entire back was naked, except for her bra strap—the dress started right before the edge of her spine.

And she wouldn't be wearing a bra when she actually wore it.

It didn't show cleavage, it barely displayed her legs, yet Rachel had never felt more alluring. It was probably the sexiest dress she would ever own.

Apparently, Young Do felt the same way. He had stopped looking at his phone and was checking her out instead. He wasn't even doing it subtly—he was rubbing his eyebrow and watching her lazily.

She caught his eye in the mirror again; some change had come over him.

He quirked his eyebrow, and said, in a mocking tone, "Want me to help you out of it?"

He'd seen her practically naked, and it had been fine, but this…this felt…as if he was…enjoying it.

She ignored it—she was just overreacting. He'd been fine. He wasn't like that. He was straightforward; he would've said something way earlier.

"I just put it on, why would I take it off?" She deadpanned, refusing to take whatever bait he'd set.

He kept rubbing his eyebrow restlessly and flipping his phone around.

She knew—she could tell—his body language had shifted: he'd gone from placid to agitated in a few minutes.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

He put his phone down, and stared up at the ceiling, and shook his head.

She knew that move all too well—she employed it whenever she felt close to tears and didn't want to talk.

Gingerly, because she was still wearing the dress, she sat down next to him. She ended up closer to him than she wanted, because he took up so much space.

It was quiet in the store. She liked shopping like this, it was peaceful.

He had closed his eyes. So she took out her phone and checked for messages and notifications. There weren't any. She wasn't very popular these days.

Ugh, who cared anyways? She pulled up the Wall Street Journal and started reading. She had better things to do, like keep up with global events, than vapid text convos.

"I was finally rejected today. Properly. I tried to change my ways. Didn't matter"

She put her phone down, and turned to look at him. He still had his eyes closed.

"Kim Tan has the girl. Kim Tan has his mom."

Rachel felt cold creeping up her back, literally and figuratively. She shivered.

"Mom?" She ventured, softly.

"My mother left. I missed seeing her by a few minutes. If I hadn't…if it wasn't him…my mother left and I didn't meet her. I haven't seen her since."

He was becoming more edgy.

"How old were you?" She asked quietly.

"We were 15. My mom left. Tan fucked off to America. And I was alone."

She wanted to touch him, offer some sort of comfort, but she didn't trust him in this mood. He was likely to bite off her hand.

"Kim Tan had his mom, so he knows how to get girls. He got the girl and he has his mom. I didn't get the girl. And I haven't seen my mom. And I want both. Maybe I should try to find my mom. Meet her. Show her what I've become. And then she'll help me. And I'll get the girl"

Rachel tried to focus only on his motherlessness.

She kept her voice neutral, and asked, "Is there a way you can meet her?"

"No. She's safely ensconced in Tan's arms now"

She couldn't believe her ears. Even here. Even now. It all came back to Eun Sang. She couldn't help it, Rachel scoffed.

He opened his eyes and fixed her with a laser stare.

She should've been a little scared. But she chose not to be. She met his gaze, and raised her chin in defiance.

He looked hurt. And she felt her stomach drop. But his moods were mercurial. He went from hurt to malicious in a second.

"But you know all about rejection, don't you, Rachel?" He smirked.

She should've known this would happen. He was…vicious. If he'd punched her in the stomach, it would've hurt less.

She looked at him, "You told me once you were willing to become an ass for Cha Eun Sang. Mission accomplished. Except you're worse than an ass."

She got up to change out of her dress…but the atmosphere was different. She couldn't do it in front of him now.

He was no longer the playful boyfriend. He was the boy ready to cross lines—who knew what he'd do?

He got up as well. And stepped towards her.

This was her own fault. _She should've known_. But…was it really her fault? Could she not trust anyone? Be treated with respect by anyone?

She felt her chin wobbling. She wouldn't let him know how deeply he'd upset her.

She felt a touch on her back. She shook his hand off.

He turned her around to face him. She refused to look at him. He held her chin gently and made her look at him. She adamantly kept her eyes down.

He searched her face. And put his arms over her shoulders.

She spoke then, looking at him. "You're right. I'm used to rejection. It's because I let assholes like you do anything you want. Just wait though. I _hate_ you all. You think I'm this worthless, stupid, inconsequential girl…you think I'm…" She couldn't continue, her voice too shaky…

He flinched but didn't say anything; he just looked at her, and pulled her close into a hug, stroking her hair with one hand.

She couldn't help it. She'd started crying. In front of the most dangerous person.

He held her, lightly running his other hand up and down her bare back.

The first time he did that, she jumped. But he said, "Shhhhh, it's okay" and continued. And she let him. And she kept crying. For herself. For him. For her mother. For Tan. For Hyo-Shin.

But her crying wasn't even real crying. She could only manage tears running down her face. And she wanted to stop. And she wanted him to stop.

Her arms had remained by her sides, her fists clenched. She pushed away from him, and he let her. He peered down at her face.

"I made you cry."

She didn't say anything.

"I can't do anything right."

She kept silent.

"The good thing is that your mascara isn't running down your face. Although I think it's dead sexy when it runs down girls' faces."

He was ridiculous. What did he know about mascara? How many girls had he made cry?

"Do you want me to help you change?"

She shook her head.

"Okay, I'll wait outside for you". He stepped out of the room.

She stood there for a few minutes, feeling hollow.

She made herself forget him—she needed to focus on her clothes. She liked all of them.

She took off the dress. The beautiful backless concoction.

Rachel felt emotionally drained. She was grateful she was superficial. How did other people distract themselves?

She looked at herself in the mirror one last time. Her face gave nothing away, other than slight puffiness.

She left the dresses there; she'd have them delivered over.

Young Do was waiting with her things. She'd reached the point where she couldn't talk anymore. She had no energy. And he could tell.

"I'll walk you to your car." He was back to playing the boyfriend.

When they got to her car, he opened the door for her, and helped her settle in.

She looked at him carefully. He was still upset, more than he was letting on. But any desire she had to comfort him had been vanquished. She thanked him instead.

Right before he left, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "You know, I had full access today, and I must say, if Tan and Hyo-Shin had been as privileged as I was today, oh boy," he let out a low whistle, patted her head and walked away.

So he had been aware of her. Just because she was naive enough to assume he wasn't like that, didn't actually mean he wasn't. He was a _boy_. She was a moron.

She kept her distance from him after that.

9. Until she kissed him.

* * *

Rachel took a bath to clear her mind. To prepare for tomorrow. She needed to be ready.

Rachel had turned a new page—she was going to be honest with herself. Brutally honest.

Why had she kissed him? Because he smelled good, and was beautiful in his suit. He'd been simply too attractive.

Why else? Because she'd felt sad for him. She'd wanted to console him.

Did she have the right? This was more his fault than hers. He was the one who'd come to her. Both times. With heavy confessions. Maybe he didn't have a motive—or maybe he did. He knew she would react that way.

Why? Maybe he hadn't expected her to _kiss_ him. Hence him not kissing her back, but he knew she would react physically. He always looked like an overgrown child in need of a hug.

Why hadn't he kissed her back? She'd looked just as good as he had. He could've kissed her back. He should've kissed her back.

No. She didn't want to think of kissing him, while taking a bath. It felt like he was in there with her. He'd take up all the spac—no. No. _No_! She wasn't going to think of it. Of anything.

She submerged her head under the water, hopefully drowning those thoughts.

* * *

She got ready for school like she was going into battle.

Her hair was smooth and shiny. Her eyeliner was perfect, yet subtle. Her lipstick was light pink. Her shoes were lace up booties.

At first she'd wanted to look intimidating. Then she decided to change tactics. He'd disarmed her thoroughly, and had been doing so for a while.

Now it was her turn. Rachel liked the idea of paradoxes—look sweet and unassuming, while out for blood.

She wanted to confuse Young Do, the way he'd confused her. She'd look as cute and adorable as possible. And he wouldn't know what hit him.

She didn't see him when she got to school.

She did see Lee Bo Na though, who chastised her for not mingling with people at the party.

"If only you knew the mingling I did," Rachel thought nastily. She appreciated Bo Na's annoyance though: it meant she wasn't completely friendless.

Bo Na had known Rachel since they were 11. They could be outright hideous to each other, but they had a bond. They'd bought their first bags together. They'd both liked Kim Tan. They'd gotten their periods the same age: 12. Some bonds couldn't be broken.

* * *

She didn't see Young Do all day. He hadn't come to school apparently.

Rachel was annoyed; he'd outwitted her. He knew she would come prepared, so he'd thrown off her balance. Now she would keep wondering where he was or why he hadn't shown up.

What a clever bastard.

* * *

She went home after school, despite the temptation to show up at Zeus, where he was probably lurking. She was itching to have a go at him, and a thorough showdown at Zeus would've been the perfect setting.

She didn't though. She'd suddenly remembered _why_ she'd kissed him. He'd seen his mother. She was curious…and worried about that.

When she walked inside the front door, one of the maids was in a tizzy, "Ms. Rachel, your friend is here!"

This was unexpected. What friend? Rachel didn't have friends.

"Where?"

The maid began sweating, "I told him to wait for you in the living room, but when I went to get him water, he disappeared…I don't know where he went!" She had sweat pouring in beads down her face. "No one else saw him!"

"Alright, alright. Let me go to my room. And I'll see what's happening with my _friend._" She rolled her eyes. Where was the housekeeper? Who was in charge of hiring these people? The maid was either crazy or had let some news reporter into the house.

"Also, alert the guards. If it's some pervert, and not a _friend, _then I'm really going to be angry." Rachel was half-kidding. The incompetence of these people! Who had she let in? Why not get more information?

She headed to her room, pulling off her jacket and unbuttoning her shirt as she walked in the door—and stopped cold.

Her "friend" was in her room. Her "friend" was indeed some pervert, lying down on her bed, arms crossed behind his head, not a care in the world.

Choi Young Do grinned at her, and raised himself to a sitting position, clapped his hands and said, "Hi friend! Let's talk!"

What a clever bastard indeed.


	8. Just how much of a boy he was

Usually when she came home, she would change right away. Sometimes she would have her shirt and shoes off even before entering. She always had a slip on underneath, so she'd just wear that, unless she had to leave her room. She liked lacy slips for the very reason that they were pretentious and made her feel like an old movie star. Her life was already glamorous, but she needed to remind herself of that now and then.

He was in her room. Her pristine, white room. With clothes artfully strewn around. Her shoe closet thrown wide open. Her frilly, lacy underwear spilling out of various drawers. Rachel's room was usually clean, but sometimes she liked leaving her things out. It made her feel decadent.

Her favorite part was her vanity. It was her point of pride, literally and figuratively.

She didn't let the maids touch her dressing table. She'd arranged all her makeup and perfumes just so.

She stood there frozen, thanking her stars she hadn't taken her shirt off. He'd seen her in less, but the rules were different now. He was dressed more casually than she'd ever seen him. He was in all black, which wasn't so unusual, but he had a fitted hat on—backwards, with a black sweater, and black jeans. He looked…dangerous. Not like the boy from Friday night.

He walked over to her dressing table, and picked up a Lancôme lipstick. He examined it, taking the cover off and smelling it. He turned to her and said, "Is this your favorite?"

Baffled would be too inept a word to describe how she was feeling, but she found herself answering him properly, "No, it's the other one. The red one." He set down the one in his hand, a candy pink, and looked at the others.

"_Which _red one? You have about 50."

"The Chanel one. That's my favorite." It seemed like the most casual, normal conversation on earth.

He found it and stared at the tube. "You like wearing red, don't you?" He looked straight at her, as if it was the most important question in the world.

She found herself nodding. "Yes."

"It looks good on you. How come red though?"

Because boys didn't like it. Because Kim Tan didn't like it. Because Young Do, the liar, didn't like it. "Because it looks good on me. You just said it yourself."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled, like they had an inside joke going on between them.

They did though. Their entire…relationship…or whatever it was…their interactions…were one big joke.

"Fair enough. It does look pretty on you." He shrugged.

It was now or never. He'd had the audacity to not only come to her house, but come up to her room, and lie down on her bed. Kim Tan had never had such privileges. Hyo-Shin hadn't even seen her house.

"Yeah, it looks pretty. But I kissed you with a different red." She wanted to shock him. Unnerve him. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

Coolly, he put the lipstick down, and adjusted his hat. Wrinkling his nose, he said, "Don't fire your maid or something. I tricked her. I didn't think she'd actually fall for it."

Before Rachel could start screaming bloody murder at him, he went and flopped down on her bed, face down. His feet hanging off the edge. He was always doing that. For someone so…big, he was surprisingly agile and extremely comfortable with his body.

She was the opposite: she couldn't sleep on planes, even when lying down. Her fists were always clenched. She liked hard shoes, and structured clothes. She couldn't imagine wearing sweatpants in public. Not even Isabel Marant ones. Maybe if there was absolutely nothing else to wear. Absolutely nothing. She preferred being tightly wound.

"Come here." He lifted his head and patted the space next to him. Inviting her to sit on her own bed.

She should've kicked him out then. Instead as if they had a mind of their own, her feet kicked off her shoes and led her to the bed.

She had a queen sized mattress, yet he still took up most of the space.

She sat cross legged against her headboard to avoid touching him. He was so…tall. She shouldn't have taken her shoes off—she always had heels around him and, previously, Tan—she never liked giving them even more of an advantage.

He was a touch too comfortable on her bed. As if he had every right to be there. She'd had enough. _He_ was the one who'd come here. _He_ was the one who'd wanted to meet.

"Why are you here?" She kept her voice as flat as possible.

He slowly turned over, his shirt riding up, revealing a sliver of hard stomach, and clasped his hands behind his head. His hat fell off—his hair had been a coif, but now it was messy. "Did you see Myung Soo today?"

"Myung Soo? Wha—no, I didn't see Myung Soo. I didn't see you either. You weren't at school, but you're _here_?"

"It was the only way to get your attention." Would he ever stop talking in riddles?

"What are you talking about?" She practically screamed.

He raised an eyebrow and said, "I texted you. You didn't respond."

Rachel was speechless. For a second. "What…what..no…you!" she sputtered.

She jumped off her bed, retrieved her phone from her bag, and checked her sent messages to show him that he was—exactly…right.

She hadn't responded to him at all. She'd been too busy drawing battle plans. She'd been too busy _preparing._

Young Do was sitting up now, arms crossed, both eyebrows raised, and that _rare _dimple making an appearance.

She ignored him, pretending to be nonchalant. "But why are you here? Why are you in my room?"

He stretched his neck and his arms. "I wanted to see you." He said, leaning back on his elbows.

He was making her nervous, deep in the pit of her stomach. "You wanted to see me? You said you wanted to talk. So _talk_."

He made a face, "Aish, that's not how these things are done. Come sit back down."

Her stomach turned. She resisted, "What do you mean these things? What things? Why can't you ever talk normally?" Her voice rose.

"Rachel, you're standing in the middle of the room. Come sit next to me." He was so damn calm, she was tempted to start screaming and throwing things just to rattle him.

"No." She crossed her arms, and raised her eyebrows. Except it wasn't as effective as when he did it: she had bangs—he couldn't see her eyebrows.

"_Rachel_."

"_No_."

"Tch. So childish." He got up in one swift movement, grabbed her hand, and led her to the bed. He didn't let go of her hand—she pulled it away, and he snatched it right back.

He was examining her hand. "You have such delicate hands." She stared at him. What was he doing? Had he lost his mind?

He was rubbing his thumb across her palm, and then pretended to read it. "You like pretty things, don't you?"

He tilted his head, pulled her closer, so she was sitting practically on him, her skirt sliding up a little. He didn't seem to notice or care.

"You have a jealous streak. Hmmmm. You won't settle for anyone less than your equal." He turned to look at her. She'd been goggling at him the whole time.

His face didn't reveal anything. She gritted her teeth. "You said you saw your mother. When? How? What was that like?" She tried to keep her voice understanding.

His hand closed over hers in a fist, covering it completely. He lay down, and dragging her with him.

"I found her. She has a café. She told me I was handsome. And tall." His voice was carefree, but he'd tightened his hold on her hand.

"I haven't said a lot to her. But we're going to meet again. Especially now. Now that my father is…" He exhaled sharply.

Rachel was lying down on her side next to him, basically curled up against him. For someone who wasn't her boyfriend, he got her to do a lot of things only boyfriends would do. Things she'd only want to do for her boyfriend.

"Are you happy?" She kept her eyes on his shoulder. His sweater was cashmere and soft, but his arm was muscled and hard. His cologne was intoxicating. She resisted the urge to rub her face against his arm. His weirdness was affecting her.

He'd started playing with her fingers. Lacing his fingers between hers, then tickling them. It was making her feel…something.

"I guess. Happiness is a foreign emotion."

She sighed. "But…are you…I mean…do you feel better?"

He suddenly turned to his side so he was facing her, his one arm folded under his head. The other drifted towards her waist. She jumped. It was her sensitive spot. Along with her back.

He was way too close and this was way too intimate. Rachel didn't mind affection, or at least she didn't think she did.

Tan had never been affectionate. Tan had barely looked at her, let alone touch her.

Hyo-Shin was too overwhelming…they'd kissed 3 times, after the first kisses. And each time it felt like he was crying into her mouth. There was too much sadness in him. It reminded her of her father.

Young Do…Young Do was different. He was too…everything about him was extreme. Her reaction to him was visceral—it bothered her: she let him get away with a lot. And he liked to do a lot.

She shifted back to put some distance between them, but to no avail. Her back came up against the headboard. The rest of the space was…him. He looked amused. She couldn't form a sentence. He was rubbing his thumb gently on her waist.

It was too much. He was too much.

She would never ever let him know, but a part of her, deep deep down was truly frightened of him. He liked making people kneel. He liked using physical intimidation. He liked spilling blood. He had a high IQ—he knew exactly what he was doing. He could easily manipulate her emotions. He could make her dance. And she was scared that she might just drop everything and do it.

Tan had never cracked the surface. Young Do, with a few confessions and broad shoulders, had gotten under her skin. He could easily be in control if he wanted. He could wreak havoc.

And to have him lying down in her bed, docile, was too much. She felt exhilarated, but also scared. He looked the part of a vulnerable, broken boy, but he was capable of other things. She would be a fool to trust this…whatever this was…wholeheartedly.

She felt her emotions rise. It wasn't tears, but she felt hysterical.

"What are you doing, Young Do? What is this?" Her words came out quiet and painful.

It was strange how attuned they were to each other. Her pain was reflected on his face.

"I don't know…I want to be here though."His voice was soft.

She blinked back the heaviness behind her eyelids—just as he leaned forward and gently brushed his lips on hers.

All thoughts left her brain. Her eyes closed instantly—her body was more in tune than her brain.

Young Do moved his hand to her cheek, running his thumb over it, and kissed her more firmly.

After a few moments, he drew back, and Rachel opened her eyes slowly. She realized she'd been holding her breath.

His eyes mirrored the fullness she felt.

She could see now that he looked tired. There were bags under his eyes, and his mouth curved downwards. Hers did too.

Young Do had been searching her face, and seemed to have found an answer. He kissed her again and this time it felt more…it felt like all the nerves in her body had gathered on her lips. The first kiss had been very light, very sweet.

This kiss was deeper. He moved his hand to her chin, and opened his mouth under hers. A sigh escaped her mouth, and it encouraged him. His mouth kept moving over hers, until she couldn't handle it anymore…and as if knew her breaking point, he slowly withdrew.

She opened her eyes, and felt a flash when they made eye contact. She wasn't shy, but she found it hard to look into his eyes. He looked more serious than she'd seen him in a while.

Silence descended on them. She kept her eyes down, and he kept his hand on her waist.

Finally he spoke, "I should go. I might have to move things around for a while. Myung Soo was helping me today."

She nodded, unable to say anything. It wasn't embarrassment, but it was…awareness. Despite everything, she'd never really thought of Choi Young Do as a boy. And he'd just thoroughly proven just how much of a boy he was. He hadn't kissed her back last time, but he'd certainly done so this time.

He raised himself up, and fixed his hat back on his head. She got up too, sitting on her knees, because she remembered she'd been wearing a skirt. A short skirt.

She took a good look at him, and felt her face warm up. How to tell him…he noticed her flushed cheeks, and nodded his head questioningly.

"You have…you have lipstick on your lips…" The last three words were barely audible. His lips were pink—the pink of her lips and lipstick.

Young Do turned to look at her, and she found herself reaching out to rub it off his lips. He'd gone still. When she finished, he winked at her, and now she was actually embarrassed. How could he be so cool and collected when she felt so frazzled?

He leaned over to her, and whispered in her ear, "I'll see you tomorrow. Don't fire your maid." She was frozen.

He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, and left her room. He could deal with the maids himself.

Rachel put a pillow over her head. What the hell had just happened? And why had she let it?


	9. A Destructive Force of the Past

Rachel felt the sting of tears and this time she didn't stop them. She cried silently for a while, pillow still over her head. She couldn't fathom why she was crying, but better to do it alone in the privacy of her own room...rather than some horrific outburst in public.

After a while she couldn't breathe, and had to sit up. She wiped her face down and got up to change. She took off her shirt and skirt—but left her slip on. She needed to regroup her thoughts, and couldn't be bothered to find something to change into.

Rachel walked over to her vanity and straightened the lipsticks he'd messed up. She felt exhausted and sat down. She looked at herself in the mirror and was unsurprised to see a lack of expression as usual.

She looked unhappy. Rachel was rarely happy anyways, so unhappiness didn't mean anything. Young Do had said happiness was a foreign emotion. He was right. But she wasn't unhappy right now...

Rachel was filled to the brim with some unnamed emotion—she couldn't identify it, a mixture of sadness and excitement. But none of it showed.

She couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

There had been a boy in her room.  
No boy had ever been in her room.  
Her bedroom was her sanctity. Her space.  
Having a boy in her bedroom implied things.  
And she'd done some of those very things.

She'd been kissing him…on her bed.

Thinking about it sent thrills down her stomach. That was something she wouldn't be able to recover from.

He'd kissed her tenderly. Yet, he was cruel. In more ways than one. She'd been a silent witness to his terrible actions countless times. He was scarily smart, with his IQ, and sharp-edged wit.

Rachel didn't want to do this to herself. She wanted to keep the feeling with her. But her sanity was slowly being restored. Her rational side wouldn't let her be happy.

Rachel sat cross legged, in front of her vanity, staring at her reflection.

Out of all the boys in the world, it had to be Young Do.

She didn't want to doubt him, or herself, but how had it come to this? He hadn't even said he liked her or anything...yet she was sitting here...thinking about him...

There was a reason Rachel was in the top of her class. She studied. She was intelligent. Despite all appearances, she worked hard.

She liked learning about politics. After all, that's what her world was comprised of: silent warfare, preemptive strikes, diplomacy.

Rachel liked the idea of evasion. And stalling. Modern nations used stalling techniques till time ran out.

Young Do had mastered the art of evasion. He hadn't really answered any of her questions, and she wasn't sure if his kissing her was part of some grand plan.

_No_. She couldn't torture herself like that. He wouldn't have kissed her like that if he had some ulterior motive. Young Do liked to engage in outright warfare, complete with nuclear attacks, not caring who was obliterated in the process. Such sneakiness would be too anticlimactic for him.

The way he kissed her—he'd been...sweet. And gentle.

Rachel had kissed 2…no, now it was 3 boys in her life. She didn't want to think of the last time Tan had kissed her. It would sully the memory of what had just happened.

But she was Rachel, and she would do this to herself. To remind herself.

Everything about Tan felt like a dull pain. A bruise that wouldn't fade, and the more she touched it, the more it hurt.

She saw a tear roll down her cheek. She didn't want to think about Tan, especially right now, but she did. She made herself.

What hurt about Tan? The fact that he never cared. Even if he didn't like her personality, he never reacted to her physically. And that was a blow to her vanity. She knew Tan had kissed other girls in America.

Possibly done more than kiss. He was a good-looking boy…with money…no supervision…in California.

Tan had kissed Rachel about 5 times. The fact that she'd counted made her feel even more pathetic.

The last time he'd kissed her…even now when she thought about it, she felt like rubbing her skin raw with bleach or some stringent cleaning agent.

* * *

They'd been in his room. A rare occurrence. He wasn't talking. He'd been going out every night, getting drunk, bruises all over his face. He wouldn't tell her what he was up to.

It wasn't like he could do anything worse: he'd already cheated on her.

It made her cringe when she thought about it now-clearly she had no dignity or pride. She let herself be treated this way.

She hadn't known what to do…she'd kept starting conversations, and he'd either given short answers, or looked at her witheringly.

She'd decided then to drop all insincerities. "Tan. I'm trying to get your attention. I don't want to play games. I'm tired of fighting. What do you want to do?"

_That_ had caught his attention. He'd walked over to her, and she recalled how fast her heart had started beating. She'd tried to deny it. But she'd liked him. Too much.

He'd bent down to her face, and quietly said, "What I want is…" and he'd pressed her against him, roughly moving his hand down her back, cupping her bottom. His other hand had ran up her waist, stopping just before touching her…boobs. She'd been paralyzed, no one had ever touched her like that. No one had dared to.

Kim Tan had kissed her then. He'd shoved his tongue in her mouth. He'd pressed her even closer when she'd moved her hands to his shoulders, trying to put some distance between them.

The kiss had felt _wrong_. _She_ had felt…wrong. Just when she was going to pull away, he'd let go of her, so she'd stumbled back.

He'd been breathing hard, and he'd wiped his mouth, and said, "What I want is for you to leave, I'd rather you leave my life. Because I can't stand the sight of you. But we can't all get what we want."

Rachel was disgusted. Something had clicked inside her, and she was shocked it took her this long to finally come to terms with it: he would always be like this. He would always blame her for everything. He would always treat her like this. Eun Sang was just the catalyst: Tan would've found some other way to cause destruction.

Forget being attracted to her, he didn't even have an ounce of respect for her as a person.

"You never liked me, did you? You never saw me as worthy?" Her voice came out odd.

Tan had laughed, "Spare me the dramatics."

Was he like this to Eun Sang? Had he ever made her feel like a cheap...slut? Had he ever been so revolting to _her?_

Rachel wanted to hurt him badly. She wanted to cause him so much pain he'd end up on his knees, incapacitated. She wanted to gouge his eyes out.

She did none of those things; she didn't even slap him, the only thing she could manage were cruel parting words, which probably wouldn't even affect him.

"You're a coward, Kim Tan. But what else do you expect from an illegitimate boy who can't even stand by his own mother?" She'd spat at him.

He'd stopped laughing, and she'd turned on her heel, and left the Kim Mansion, not looking back.

* * *

Her mother had already cancelled the engagement, and Rachel had railed against her and cried, so she'd gone to Tan as one last attempt of salvation. Even now she felt more furious at herself than him. She'd done this to herself. She shouldn't have gone. She had no pride.

A slow, burning anger had been set off. Rachel wanted Kim Tan to _burn_.

But he wouldn't. He was resilient. And she didn't want to invest her time and energy in plotting revenge.

So she decided to change herself, make herself formidable. She wanted to make him regret-not breaking off the engagement, because she could never see him that way again. Her feelings for him had turned into wrath.

One day he would regret treating her like she was indispensable, as if she wasn't even worth his words.

He was worthless. _Worthless_. He'd proven himself to be a failure in all ways-he wasn't equal to her in any way.

And remembering that allowed her to hold her head up.

* * *

Rachel was absurdly excited for school the next morning. Usually that only happened when their grades were announced. This was a new development. She didn't like it.

She wanted to see Young Do. She wanted to talk to him. See how he was.

Except, the nagging voice in her head, her conscience, the ruthless Rachel, kept singing, "_You're a fool, Rachel…you're a fool_."

Rachel knew she was crazy, but not this crazy. She ignored the voice, but took her craziness as a sign: she needed to calm down. He was just a boy. Who'd kissed her.

Yet, she wanted to see him. It wasn't a big deal; there were other things to get carried away about. "_You want him to kiss you again."__  
_  
She'd debated whether or not to put a bright color on her lips. What if he kis-no_, no!_ She wouldn't take him into account while she was getting ready.

Boys were never at the forefront of her mind when it came to her appearance—that only mattered to boring-looking girls like Eun Sang.

Rachel gave herself a mental slap. She wouldn't think of useless people or matters, especially this early in the morning.

She put on a light coral YSL lipstick. She didn't care if he kissed her or not. And if he did, he hadn't minded getting lipstick on his mouth. Either time. He was a big boy, he knew how to deal with it.

* * *

Omma dropped her off at school. And of course they got into a fight.

Times like this made her want her father. But that was neither here nor there. Missing Abeoji didn't do anything.

She'd learned not to cry about such things. Even the meanest of boys could only muster up some tears and sniffles.

If she ever started crying about her father...she wouldn't be able to stop.

Her mother kept up the harangue the entire way to school.

"You're a disappointment, Rachel." They'd pulled up to Jeguk.

She silently got out of the car, and through clenched teeth said, "And I'll make sure to keep disappointing you, Omma." She slammed the car door hard, not before catching the look of regret on her mother's face.

* * *

The momentary, minute giddiness she'd felt when getting ready had disappeared.

She could hear the blood drumming in her ears.

She didn't want to see anyone or talk to anyone. She looked like a bitch anyways, so no one went out of their way to start conversations with her.

She didn't want to see Young Do anymore either. Her nerves were already fried, and she couldn't handle another confrontation.

The fight with her mother had brought her harshly back to reality.

What was he playing at? He couldn't just do whatever he wanted. She might have kissed him first, but he'd disoriented her.

Then he'd come to her bedroom of all places, and then kissed her on her bed. As if she was easy or something.

She knew she was projecting, but better to direct her anger towards something concrete, rather than her dysfunctional home life.

She didn't want to see him because she didn't know what would happen. What he'd do. What she'd do. Her excitement over the kiss had deflated.

Rachel wanted to evade, with the mood she was in. _He_ wanted to combat though, apparently.

He was standing at her locker, his hair in that _stupid fucking_ fringe which reminded her of _stupid fucking _Kim Tan.

She choked down a shrill laugh-he knew she hated that fringe. Which was hypocritical of her, but she didn't care.

She was ready to spit fire...except when she got closer, she saw his hair was wet, and his face too pale. Even with his porcelain skin, she could see the exhaustion in his face. Her anger dissipated. What was going on with him?

Young Do saw her and ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it away from his forehead. Effectively ruining the fringe.

She felt a pang for him, and opened her locker, staring at her things aimlessly. She cast a glance at him.

He was looking at the floor, his face impassive. Except for those eyebrows. Those evil eyebrows. They gave away everything. They were furrowed, and he kept squinting his eyes.

She noticed everything about him—she could tell when he was annoyed, amused, sad—she paid too much attention to him.

Rachel was starting to come to a conclusion…and she wasn't sure if she liked it.

She decided to act normally. As normally as she could—her normal was other people's bitchy.

Quietly, she asked him, "Why is your hair wet? Are you okay?" Because she actually wanted to know now.

Young Do turned to face her-and she was sandwiched between her locker door and him. He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged, pursing his lips, "I was in a hurry." He was upset. She could even see his freckles.

He wasn't talking, but his body was angled toward hers. If she stepped closer, his leg would end up between hers.

She touched his arm. She wasn't going to push him to talk. She'd just had her dark mood, and he was having his.

Despite her earlier misgivings, she wanted to pull him into a hug, but she wasn't sure how he would react. And she was_ at school._ There were already so many vultures around—why give them more blood?

She kept her hand on his arm though, stroking it soothingly, at least she hoped. How did you comfort a boy?

Young Do didn't mind, in fact he moved closer, and their legs were brushing. Her heart was pounding. She wondered if he could tell.

He was going to say something, when they heard the bang of a locker door. It startled them both—it had felt like there was only the two of them in that moment. They turned their heads in unison to look at the source of the noise.

Kim Tan had been staring over at them. With that unique, stony glare he reserved only for Rachel. His gaze flickered between the two of them, and he narrowed his eyes at Young Do, before stalking away.

Rachel felt confused, and guilty—as if she'd been doing something wrong. Her cheeks turned warm.

She looked at Young Do, whose jaw had tightened, but his face softened when he looked at her. She was disturbed by Tan's behavior. And Young Do could tell.

He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, slightly nuzzling it. She knew they were at school. She knew people saw, but she only saw Young Do. Rachel was breathless.

"Are you doing anything after school?" he asked in a low voice.

"Not really." Her voice came out airy.

"You want to go somewhere with me?" Her heart skipped a beat at those words.

Tan was a destructive force of the past. She wouldn't let him affect her in any way.

Rachel found herself nodding, "Okay."

Young Do might be just as destructive as Tan, but not towards her. That's what mattered. For now.

And she reached her conclusion-she liked him.


	10. Scared Little Kitty-Cat

It was time. He hadn't actually said where or what. Or even when. She walked up to her locker, but he wasn't around.

She felt her mood dim. He hadn't been there at lunch and he was nowhere to be seen now.

Rachel couldn't even bother chastising herself. She was already affected by him. It was too late now. It was all too acute. She refrained from banging her head against her locker.

She took her phone out…debating whether to text him or not. A part of her just wanted to, but the other part reminded her that he had all the control right now. She had to hold her own.

Where was he? If he wanted to go right after school, he was 20 minutes late already.

"Were you calling me?" His voice made her jump.

Rachel's heart leapt at the sight of him. This was not good. Not good at all. He'd fixed his hair into the coif again.

She looked down. She had accidentally called him.

"Are you ready?"

Rachel had lost her ability to speak. She nodded.

He gestured for her to follow. She grabbed her bag, walking quickly to keep up with him.

He noticed, and slowed his stride. "We're going to take my bike." His eyes traveled down her legs, and he wrinkled his nose, smiling slightly.

* * *

Rachel had sat on his bike before. This time it felt different. She was more aware of the muscles in his arms, and how broad his shoulders and back were. It made her lightheaded. It made her want to run her hands up and down his back.

She didn't like the bike though. It scared her. What if she was really heavy and weighed a lot and leaned on him, what if he lost control? What if he sneezed or coughed? Riding a bike was so…risky. A body could go flying off with minimum impact.

She closed her eyes. That wasn't a good idea. She opened them again and prayed that they would reach their destination quickly.

He'd brought her to a cafe of some sort. She was so flustered that he had to help her off the bike.

He studied her and asked, "Are you okay?"

She nodded and tried to act nonchalant, but realized she was gripping his hand, and he was running his thumb over her knuckles soothingly.

It seemed to be a signature move, but it worked on her.

He looked as if he was going to start laughing, but then changed his mind. At least he was in a better mood now.

Now holding her hand, he led the way inside.

Rachel was overwhelmed. Both by him and…the people inside.

She knew she was a pretty girl, but sometimes the stares were uncalled for.

Young Do hung back, letting go of her hand, reading something on his phone.

Rachel looked contemptuously over at the main perpetrators—it was a special group of nerds.

The kind that compensated for their awkward social skills by making others, usually girls, feel bad. The kind that were raised by foreign nannies and had developed a sense of superiority worse than Rachel's.

And they were shamelessly checking her out. She ignored them, but she could…feel…their stares. It felt like they were burning holes in her skirt.

They kept looking in her direction and snickering, so she threw them the filthiest look she could muster and suddenly they blanched, quickly looking down and shifting in their seats.

Rachel felt pleased with herself.

Haughtily she turned to look for Young Do and smacked into his chest—he'd come up behind her…He was the one those gross boys had been scared of.

Young Do simply looked at them, and they hurriedly gathered their things, tripping over their feet in their haste to get out of there,

His eyes followed them out of the cafe. And they kept turning back as if to see if he was following.

His face hadn't changed—his usual stoic expression—his resting face. He hadn't moved a muscle. He'd done absolutely nothing, and those boys had been petrified.

Rachel was impressed. And apprehensive.

He looked down at her, "That happens a lot, doesn't it?"

He put his hand on her lower back and guided her to a table, and pulled out the chair for her.

"All the time. And it's not flattering." He settled down in front of her. "Doesn't it happen to you too?"

Young Do shrugged, "Usually, I scare girls…I scare you too."

How did he know?!

She played it off, trying to be cool, "No, you don't. You don't scare me."

"Every time I touch you, you jump. Your eyes widen when I come near you. Your lips were trembling when I kissed you."

Her ears were on fire. How could he publicly acknowledge such a…such a thing?

"No, I didn't, I mean, no I wasn't. No, they weren't" she stuttered.

He smirked. "It's okay if you are. I like it. I wouldn't want a girl who wasn't affected by me."

Had he…had he just said he wanted her? Did that mean he liked her? What did it mean?

Before she could respond, two steaming bowls of noodles arrived in front of them.

She stared at the food for a second, and looked up to find him watching her.

"Ready for a taste?"

She knew he was asking about the food, but his tone was velvety, as if he was asking her about something else.

She nodded, and started eating carefully. She took her time. Mostly because he'd taken her appetite away.

He enthusiastically ate, and then saw she wasn't really eating. "You don't like it?"

"I like it," but she couldn't concentrate because his legs were touching hers—he then hooked his ankle through hers, playing footsie with her.

"Are the noodles too spicy? Your face is turning red." His voice was innocent, he knew exactly why her face was turning red.

She decided to turn the tables.

Focusing on her noodles, she slipped off her shoe, Marc Jacobs pumps, and slid her foot up his leg, and then slipped it into his pant leg, tickling it with her stockinged toes.

He wasn't bothered—other than smirking, he kept eating.

Rachel was annoyed and a little embarrassed. Clearly she wasn't affecting him. But then he snaked his other leg around her currently occupied foot, trapping it between his legs.

Rachel felt like she was on fire—his leg was between hers, and he was strong. She tried to disentangle herself, but to no avail. His grin became wider.

She hoped people didn't notice how they were sitting…her skirts tended to be a little shorter than the uniform allotted. But there was the tablecloth.

He finished his bowl, and took hers, and finished it. She wasn't eating it at all, she'd been picking at it.

He winked at her. That was also becoming a habit. She struggled with her leg, and then changed tactics.

She took off her other shoe and placed her leg across his lap, caressing his thigh with her foot as she moved it along.

Thank god for flexibility and table cloths.

The look on his face was priceless. His eyes had widened and he'd jumped slightly.

"Are you okay?" She asked sweetly, and he coughed.

"You have the reflexes of a cat…I think it's time we leave" He let go of her leg, and told her to get up first.

Confused by his sudden brusqueness, she quickly put her shoes on, and stood up.

Stiffly, he got up, and walked rigidly out the door, grabbing her wrist as he did so.

He turned to her when they were outside, "Let's go to Zeus."

And stuffed the helmet on her head.

* * *

He hadn't said anything the entire ride there, and now they were in his suite.

Eun Sang had been here too. She idly wondered if they'd kissed, and then resisted the urge to vomit.

He'd looked for something on his  
laptop, and told her to wait on the sofa. That had been 15 minutes ago. Now she was getting frustrated.

She wasn't just some girl he could order around or drive crazy. Just when things were getting clear, he would go and throw water all over it.

"Why are we here? I can't keep waiting for you."

He stopped typing. Slowly, he got up and made his way to the couch, settling down heavily next to her, so she fell into him.

She moved back a little to put space between them…for her own sanity.

He lit a cigarette, and sucked on it silently. The crisp smell of fresh smoke filled the air around them.

Rachel felt both murderous and fascinated. His head was tipped back, and his jawline was so beautiful. She couldn't stop staring at his mouth as he smoked. She also wanted to throttle him.

She gave him a few more seconds, and when he kept smoking, she got up to leave. He grabbed her arm, and yanked her back down.

Rachel was furious. "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but I'm done playing stupid games with you. I'm not here for your entertainment."

"I never said you were".

"Well, then why am I here? What are you doing?"

"You keep asking me that…why don't you tell me what you want to do."

Rachel bit the inside of her cheek.

She didn't like feeling like this: unsure about a boy. She'd vowed she wouldn't let it happen again.

"Fine. Fine. What I want you to do is stop touching me."

He paused mid-smoke, and she saw a muscle jump in his cheek.

"What's that supposed to mean?" His voice was soft.

"It means," she hissed, "exactly what I said."

"Care to elaborate?" His voice was deadly. He was squinting at his cigarette.

She had his full attention though.

"Fine. Fine. Don't kiss me, don't stand close to me. Don't touch me."

He resumed smoking, and asked calmly, "Why?" The muscle in his cheek twitching.

"Because you and I are not together. Because we don't have a relationship." Her own words made her wince. But she couldn't let this happen to herself.

"We don't have a relationship?" His voice was getting softer—a sign that he was angry. Very angry.

He had reason though. They had an…odd, undefined relationship. But she'd crossed the line, and if he wasn't going to come to terms with it, she'd have to redraw it. Hard.

They did have a relationship, they just weren't in one. And she couldn't continue like that. "No, we don't."

"I see." His voice was cold. "So then, that night…on the terrace…what was that?"

She flushed. Her voice came out raw, "You're not understanding me. I've made myself clear. Very clear. You haven't said anything. At all."

"You've made yourself clear? You kiss me, then run away. I text you, you don't respond. I come to your house, you ask me why I'm there. Today was the only time you acted normal, and now you're telling me something different?" His tone was very sharp.

Rachel took a deep breath. "I. Kissed. You. You didn't respond. It took you two days to get back to me. 2 days. You were lying down on my bed! I ask you questions and you DON'T TELL ME ANYTHING. Anything!"

"It took me by surprise…" He finished his cigarette, and promptly lit another one.

She shook her head and looked up, fighting back tears. When had she become so emotional? She wasn't going to have her period for another two weeks.

"You're not…" Her voice hitched, "you don't…nothing. Forget it."

He stubbed his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, and hauled her into his lap. He was so much bigger than her—she felt like a little girl. She tried to get up, but he held her down, his arms around her waist.

She resolutely stared at his chest, because she didn't want to look at him. Also because she was sitting in his lap. It felt too safe, she felt too protected, even though it was literally the most dangerous place she could be. At least she wasn't straddling him.

He ran his fingers up and down her spine. She started, and then tried to shrug him off. He seemed very comfortable with their position.

She whispered, "This is what I mean. I don't understand what you're doing."

"Well, what do you think I'm doing?" His voice was complacent.

"Young Do, I can't do this…" Her voice was a plea.

"Do what?" His was silk.

Despite every fiber of her being urging her not to, Rachel took the plunge.

But she wasn't that ballsy, so she whispered it in his ear, instead of saying it to his face. She felt him  
shiver.

"All these things that you do…they make me think something else. But I'm not sure. And I usually, forcefully convince myself they don't mean anything…but with you, I don't know. You're going to have to tell me. I think I know what you're doing…but you have to make it clear. I don't want to assume…You have to tell me"

She moved back, and focused her attention back on his blazer, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

She could feel his incredulous stare, "You can't tell? You honestly can't tell?"

She kept her eyes down while she shook her head.

"How did you know Kim Tan liked you?"

Rachel met his eyes then, as she answered, "But Kim Tan didn't like me. Neither did Hyo-Shin."

He hesitated, "They must have liked you…they had to have…they weren't blind."

She brushed off his abstract compliment and answered, pulling the words from deep down, "No, they…acted…like they liked me. They would have treated me with respect if they had. But they didn't. They gave off all the signs of liking me, but they actually didn't. So you see my problem."

His fingers had resumed their path up and down her back again.

"Sort of. But what does that have to do with us?"

She'd given him a gut-wrenching confession, and this was his reaction?

Her hands were close to his neck…she could easily—he seemed to know what she wanted to do, because he grabbed them, and held them down.

Was he being deliberately obtuse or frighteningly clever?

"It has everythi—I don't want you to kiss me. Unless you mean it. Don't touch me. Unless you mean it. Don't even compliment me. Don't touch my waist. Don't hold my hand. Don't stand so close to me. Because…I…like it when you do those things. Because…I like you. And if you don't like me, then don't do them. Please don't. Because. You. Are. Driving. Me. Crazy. And I can't handle it." Her voice was shaky.

She'd done it now. She'd given him her all.

"You don't follow through, Rachel"

Follow—follow through?

"Follow through? What follow through? Follow through with what?" She was puzzled.

His expression was serious, "Follow through with me."

She was beyond confusion now. He might as well have been speaking a different language.

"What are you talking about?!" Her voice came out tight.

He wasn't amused. His eyes glittered dangerously as he said, "Shall I demonstrate for you?"

It was only through the subtle change in his voice that she got an inkling of this "follow through" he was talking about.

Rachel jumped off his lap and he let her.

She gathered her things, and made her way to the door, when—he'd followed her, and grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her to him.

"Running away. Always running away." His voice was smooth in her ear.

"I'm not running away." Her protest was too soft though. She arched away from him.

"Yes, you are. You run away from me. You're a scared little kitty-cat."

She blinked up at him. She wasn't a kitty-cat, she'd rather be Catwoman, wearing leather and heels.

He pursed his lips. "You're not fair, Rachel. Not everything is so black and white."

"Yes. It is. When it comes to me…it is. It has to be."

"You like drawing lines."

"So? Why shouldn't I? There need to be lines. Don't cross them if you don't mean it."

"This kitty-cat's got claws" Young Do laughed without humor. He narrowed his eyes, and let go of her wrist.

She was disappointed. Severely disappointed. She'd expected more from him.

She started to tell him so when—

He pulled her flush against him, and kissed her swiftly. He raised his head to look at her, for a second, and then bent down to capture her lips.

His mouth angled over hers. Again. And again. And again. Thoroughly. Lazily. Slowly. As if he had all the time in the world.

He was in no hurry. His hands roamed all over her back and waist and hips and hair and arms and shoulders—there and back again.

The feel of his body against hers nearly caused her to combust. His tongue was in her mouth—and then she couldn't think in such clinical, sterile terms anymore: he was massaging it against hers, languidly, luxuriously.

Young Do was soft and hard all at once. He was many different sensations. Each better than the last.

Her knees buckled, but he continued. She was completely incapacitated by the time he started slowing down, giving her smaller pecks, until he eventually stopped.

He didn't let go of her, yet she swayed in his arms. They were both breathless.

"Sheathe your claws, kitty. I hope this made things clear for you," he rested his forehead against hers. His mouth was coral.

Enough with the cat metaphors! If she was a cat, then he was a panther. A black panther.

She held her breath and said, "I guess it does…"

"You guess?" His jaw clenched. "You guess? Let me make it more clear for you, then," he said in a biting tone.

With that he dipped his head again.

And made things more clear. Crystal clear. Swarovski crystal clear.

Multiple times.


	11. The Sorrows of Young Rachel

It was too good to last. It was just too good to last.

* * *

He'd made it clear but it wasn't enough.

It wasn't clear. He couldn't convince her. Because he was unsure himself.

* * *

If he didn't like her..or like her enough, she wouldn't cry about it. She would get over it. She'd make herself get over it. And then in her weaker moments she would wonder why why why this always happened to her.

* * *

Rachel was on some sort of sugar rush that whole week. It was a blur of hand holding, a few kisses here and there, and mostly just delighting in the fact when he came near.

They weren't obvious at school. He usually wasn't around at lunch, and she only had one class with him.

She also didn't want to show anyone anything. Better to enjoy it secretly. Except…he was too obvious. He didn't hold back. He didn't care. She did. She had to.

Everyone was still scared of him.

No one was scared of her. His idle threat earlier in the year had been forgotten. Mostly by the girls.

* * *

Kang Ye Sol and Rachel had always had a tumultuous "friendship", mostly because Ye Sol had a big mouth and no brains, and because she had an unrequited crush on Young Do.

Things had eventually soured permanently when Young Do began hovering around Rachel more and more.

And then he'd kissed her on the cheek. In front of everyone.

* * *

It all came to a head one nasty morning.

Rachel went to the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror…when Eun Sang walked in. They studiously avoided eye contact. Eun Sang had gotten a lot braver since she'd slapped Rachel, and gotten Tan.

That fucking rabbit-toothed bitch. Rachel ignored her. Except, then, Lee Bo Na and Ye Sol bounced in.

Bo Na looked uncomfortable, as she always did whenever she saw Rachel, when she was with them. Ye Sol threw Rachel a dirty look and fawned over Eun Sang's hair.

Rachel kept up her invisibility shield (she pretended she didn't see them, and they did the same) and put on her lipstick. She was tamer for school. She had Holika Holika Candy Red on. It was cute, it was silly.

"Some people are so up themselves, without reason. Boys only like down to earth girls." Ye Sol began.

That's why you've never had a boyfriend, Rachel thought. What did Ye Sol know about down to earth?

Lee Bo Na had walked into a stall, and Eun Sang was washing her hands.

"Boys like girls like you, Cha Eun Sang…"

What kind of girl said things like that to…another girl? Obsessive freaks, like Ye Sol, that was who. Unless she'd moved on from her fixation on Young Do to Eun Sang.

"I mean, you're so lucky. You were Young Do's first love! And now Kim Tan!"

"Ya! Ye Sol, stop!" Eun Sang giggled.

"What! It's true!" Ye Sol was giggling too, "Teach me your ways!"

Rachel was about to unwisely say, "Just steal another girl's boyfriend…" when she registered what Ye Sol had said.

She knew he'd liked Eun Sang, but she'd always written it off as boredom. Was this true? Had he liked her…_that…much_?

But then…all those teasing times he'd told Rachel he wouldn't date her…there was a legitimate reason behind it. It wasn't because he was her _Oppa._

_Oppa_ had liked…no…_Oppa _ had loved…another girl. The one girl she could never stop hating.

Rachel finished applying her lipstick. She was glad her outward facade hadn't cracked. She still looked icy. Her inner turmoil wasn't apparent.

Here she'd thought she might have had some significance to him, yet Eun Sang had beaten her. Again.

She walked out of the bathroom, but not before catching Ye Sol's expression: looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

* * *

The thing about Young Do was that while he _looked_ the way he looked, he _acted_ the way he acted. He was the living, breathing example of look-but-don't-touch.

Some tiny part of her thought that maybe, maybe, _maybe_ she'd been his first kiss. Who else would have been brave enough?

But…he didn't kiss like that. In fact all of his movements clearly indicated that _he knew what he was doing_. Thoroughly.

Rachel tried not to succumb to her terrible mood, but it was overwhelming her. Overpowering her.

She tried to keep calm. So what? So what? So what if Eun Sang was his first love? She'd rejected him. They didn't talk. She didn't like him. He ignored her now.

_But…what if_, nasty Rachel asked, what _if he'd kissed Eun Sang_? What would you do then? So what though? Rachel had kissed Tan and Hyo-Shin…

But what if, what if he'd told Eun Sang he liked her? He'd spent an hour "making things clear" for Rachel, and then took every subsequent opportunity to further "convince" her, but he still actually hadn't said the words. He'd given them to Eun Sang…but not…Rachel.

She didn't know why she tried to be happy and normal. She could buy all the things in the world. But not happiness or normalcy. Well, whatever, both those things were extremely overrated. But…now she wouldn't be able to enjoy Young Do anymore. She was going to have to talk to him about this. And it was going to be very very unpretty

* * *

Rachel hated to be proven right. It hadn't been unpretty. It had been downright hideous. It had been like walking into a buzz saw. It had been like fighting someone with one hand tied behind her back.

Her problem was that she underestimated Young Do. All the time. Even with knowing exactly how he was. She still thought of him as the overgrown, lost-looking boy who randomly did nice things for her.

Rachel forgot he was a fighter. Literally. He was built for combat. He wouldn't back down easily.

She'd asked him. Point blank asked him. And he'd said yes. Eun Sang had been his first love. He had liked her that much. He had made himself get over her.

And then he'd asked her. "Why does it matter? I don't ask you about Kim Tan. Or Hyo-Shin." And Rachel had tried to point out that it wasn't the same. And then he'd gotten angry.

Then she'd asked him, "How come you still haven't told me you like me?"

Young Do had bristled. "Do you want me to kneel in front of you? Cut out my heart and place it in your hands? Do you want my blood too? Do you want everything?"

No. She didn't want everything. She only wanted him. But the fact that he couldn't utter the words, especially when he'd freely given them to Eun Sang, hurt her in ways she couldn't even begin to decipher.

She knew she was making a mistake, starting this fight with him, but then he'd delivered the coup de grâce: "You know, Rachel, you came to me. I wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't kissed me. I was just curious. And then, you let me."

Her blood might as well have spattered the walls. He continued, "You're not ready for this, that's fine with me. Find me when you make up your mind."

* * *

Robots. Emotionless robots. That's who Rachel aspired to be like. Forget everything and operate mechanically. Don't think, don't feel, don't pretend. Be cool. Be cold. Be cruel.

It had been a week. She didn't miss him. Or his face. Or his shoulders. Or his hands. He wasn't at school a lot anyways. Maybe running Zeus gave him some free pass or something.

* * *

There was a new teacher. A nervous young male who'd studied English Literature in America. He came up with nonsensical ideas. Like assigning partners for class. Nonsensical, catastrophic ideas like having Rachel and Eun Sang work together. And if you didn't like your partner, you had to take a penalty or write a 20 page paper instead.

Rachel knew how to comport herself in such situations. She kept her face blank. She would talk to that stupid teacher after class. 20 page papers were a challenge she'd willingly take. She was Ivy League material.

What she couldn't take was Eun Sang's face. Or Kim Tan's overreaction.

He protectively hovered over Eun Sang, and said loudly, "Don't worry. I'll help you write that paper even if I need to stay up all night."

Rachel wondered if a double homicide would be too much; they were putting on a show. Eun Sang's lip was trembling.

Rachel was proud of herself. She kept it together. She knew they wanted some sort of reaction from her.

Chan Young and Bo Na kept casting worried looks over to Eun Sang. As if Rachel was some heinous witch. As if Eun Sang was the only victim.

She'd never hated any of them as much as she did at that moment.

How could they just accept the both of them as if it were nothing? How could they be okay with the fact that Eun Sang and Tan had gotten together while he was engaged? How could they—no. No. There was no point in wondering how could they?

They could. They did. They had. And they would continue to do so.

By the time class was over, Rachel had developed a migraine, and had resolved to talk to the stupid teacher.

* * *

She was able to convince him. It helped that Eun Sang trudged her way up, and dully stated she would write the paper too. When the teacher had asked why they couldn't work together, Rachel had answered, "I'd prefer to work on my own and develop my own thesis." That had seemed to impress him. She had thanked him and walked out without a backwards glance.

She didn't feel triumphant though. She felt…she felt awful.

Kim Tan, Chan Young, and Bo Na were huddled into a group, concerned looks on their faces. Waiting for Eun Sang.

She stuck her nose in the air, and looked straight ahead as she passed them, Kim Tan glaring at her the entire time.

_This_ was the boy she would've married. _This_ was the boy who treated her like shit. _This_ was the boy who'd broken her heart. Ripped it out. Stomped on it. And still it wasn't enough for him. What did he want? _WHAT DID HE WANT?_

And the other two…assholes standing next to him. Fine, Chan Young had a thing for Eun Sang. But Bo Na? Lee Bo Na? Lee Bo Na who'd once said Eun Sang was lower than the dirt beneath her Jimmy Choos, and deserved to be trampled and treated like so.

This girl was staring at Rachel with big, nervous eyes, as if she'd committed grand larceny.

And all for Cha Eun Sang. The girl with the magic. She'd gotten Tan jumping through hoops for her. Chan Young at her beck and call. She'd even made…she'd even gotten Young Do…even Young Do had…fallen for…no.

Rachel dug her nails into her wrist, and focused on getting to her locker and getting the fuck out. Halfway there she changed her mind. She didn't need anything from her locker. She needed to leave. Get away from everything.

She'd done it again. Given him all the power. And look what it had gotten her. Maybe it was deep-seated masochistic tendencies: let boys run you ragged. Give them all the reins. Maybe she was attracted to boys like this for a reason. Maybe the world was right—Rachel deserved to be disregarded. Overlooked. Treated with contempt.

Maybe it was punishment for being pretty. For being privileged. For thinking highly of herself, instead of thinking lowly like the world wanted her to. Maybe this was the universe's way of reminding her: "You may have it all, but I'll make sure you _suffer_through it."

Rachel slid into her car, and put on her Saint Laurent wayfarers because she wanted to hide her face. All the forces of the universe were intent on making her unhappy, but she'd be damned if she didn't look fucking good every second of it.

* * *

She didn't go home. All she had to look forward to was a 20 page paper. Her mother was in Macau. She was free.

Rachel debated where to go. And then ended up in the same place: her favorite luxury spa.

She liked it because the assistants weren't annoying. And they always offered her champagne and strawberries. She decided to get a foot massage and pedicure.

She tried to relax and revel in the massage, but her hands kept going to her phone. Checking for messages. There were no messages. There were never any messages.

Maybe she was wrong…But she couldn't change her nature. She was who she was. She could only adapt so much.

His words still felt like an icicle through her heart. They'd pierced it. _"I wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't kissed me. I was just curious. And then, you let me."_

She was glad the lights were dimmed, because she felt the tears running down her face.

She decided to rationalize through her feelings before something worse happened:

What happened? He told me he would never have made a move.  
How did she feel? Hurt. Betrayed. Rejected. Terrible. Anguished. Hysterical.  
Why? Because she'd done it again. She'd done to herself. Again. She couldn't learn her lesson. She'd act like this, so she deserved all this pain. She deserved it.  
Why did his words hurt? Because she listened to Ye Sol. Because Cha Eun Sang was his first love. Because he told her he liked her and couldn't tell Rachel he liked _her_. Because she was the worst. And he was the worst.  
Why? Because she wasn't anyone's first love. No one had liked her this way, and no one would. She was the desperate, unlovable type. She was the worst. She was the worst. He couldn't give her the words. He told Eun Sang. But he couldn't tell Rachel because she was the worst. The worst.

Rachel's eyes blurred with tears. She took a deep breath, and blinked several times. Her vision cleared and she bit her tongue.

What had happened was in the past. Now was the time to move forward. Even if she was the worst, she didn't have to take shit from anyone.

* * *

The good thing about her insomnia was that she worked better at night anyways. She had churned out a beautiful 20 page analysis on the Sorrows of Young Rachel. She was losing it. The Sorrows of Young Werther.

She'd found it in a bookstore when she'd visited Germany. She'd been 14 and impressionable. It still stuck with her. She felt like Werther too much

By the time that class rolled around, she was ready to go home.

The odds weren't ever in her favor: Young Do was in school today, and he was ignoring her as she was ignoring him. She'd been assigned to work with Myung Soo on a project, and she wasn't sure how that was going to turn out. Then, the teacher had informed her she would have to _present_ her paper to the class.

Rachel wondered how much trouble it would be to get him fired, but then dismissed such uncharitable thoughts. But then seriously started contemplating it again when she realized Young Do would be there.

Eun Sang gave some haphazard report on Oliver Twist.

When it was Rachel's turn, she heard a few snickers. Young Do kept looking down, twisting his pen around and around.

Rachel presented calmly, and in her opinion, with finesse. Except, then the teacher decided it should be "interactive" and had her classmates ask her questions.

There was always one exceedingly obnoxious kid in every class who always had his foot in his mouth. Yun Yong Jin was one of them.

"So…Werther was an obsessive fool who assumed Lotte liked him?"

Rachel gritted her teeth and answered, "You could interpret it that way, if you wanted."

"You don't think so? You don't think he was just crazy?"

Rachel raised her eyes to the heavens for patience and said, "Like I said, there could be many different interpretations…Werther was manically depressed, but he wasn't the only one at fault."

"Care to elaborate?"

Young Do had said those same words. Rachel ignored the swoop in her stomach.

"Have you read the book, Yong Jin? If you have, then I can explain it." Rachel snapped.

"I…I…haven't," He mumbled, "but I'm still curious."

Rachel looked at the teacher for help and he said, "Why don't you take a stab at it?"

She did want to take a stab at it. In each of their eyeballs.

She took a deep breath and started, "Werther didn't just magically like Lotte. Obviously she encouraged him. If he seemed unstable, she should've cut it off right there and then. She didn't treat Werther with love or respect. If she'd respected him, she wouldn't have let it go on for so long. Obviously it was some sort of ego boost for her. And even if she was from a different social class, it doesn't matter. She shouldn't have given him false hope. She shouldn't have given him anything." Her voice was heated.

Except, Yong Jin had another question.

Rachel started planning where she'd bury his body.

"Who did you identify with? Lotte or Werther?"

"Neither."

"But if you had to…?"

She refrained from screaming, but her voice came out shrill, "Werther is manically depressed. He kills himself because he can't be with Lotte. Maybe he overwhelmed her. But Lotte should have stayed away from him. He kills himself for her, and…she doesn't show up to his funeral. This was her "dearest friend" and she didn't come to his funeral. No one did. So, I don't identify with either. Werther killed himself. And Lotte was cruel. Except, if I was Werther, I would have dragged Lotte down to my hell. I would have made her suffer with me. I would have made sure her pain was as excruciating as mine. So, maybe I am Werther, but I wouldn't just kill myself, I would kill Lotte too. Does that answer your question?"

A stunned silence greeted this speech.

"Thank—thank you, Rachel, a very thorough analysis, and eloquent." Her teacher stuttered. What a liar. She had been anything but eloquent—she'd rambled on.

Rachel made her way back to her seat. She could see Young Do was gripping his pen tightly, knuckles turning white.

Finally, class was over.

* * *

What happened next would go down in Jeguk history—it would be more infamous than any of Kim Tan's or Young Do's fights.

It would be legendary.

* * *

Kang Ye Sol was a special breed of pathetic. And stupid.

She came up to Rachel as class was over, and whispered, "Why don't you do us all a favor and make way like Werther?

Had this fucking idiot even read the book? Could she even string two sentences in English together?

Rachel ignored her. Except Ye Sol had grown balls to match her manly eyebrows. "_I said_why don't you do us all a favor?"

She knew they were starting to attract attention, but Rachel couldn't even be bothered to look at Ye Sol. She picked up her bag, except Ye Sol moved in front of her.

"Ya, Yoo Rachel, who do you think you are?" She blocked Rachel's way. "Why don't you take a page out of your father's book? I'm sure no one cared when _he_ didn't succeed, but we'll all rejoice if _you _successfully kill yourself."

* * *

Kang Ye Sol wasn't able to look at herself in the mirror for the next two weeks. She had to cancel all her auditions. She couldn't threaten to sue. She had no leverage. Rachel's mother was livid. She had to pay them off.

* * *

Rachel was red she felt the world had gone red she had gone red everything had gone red she could only hear red see red bleed red she wanted Ye Sol to bleed red she wanted her blood to spill red.

_How did she know?_

Rachel had launched herself at Ye Sol, digging her nails into Ye Sol's face, and dragging them down, leaving bloody streaks.

She also grabbed her hair and twisted it around her face, pulling it as hard as she could.

She also punched her nose, hopefully breaking it.

Someone grabbed her around the waist, holding her back. She thrashed like a wildcat, trying to get free, intent on _hurting every inch of Ye Sol's body._ She could hear herself screaming expletives, but she didn't care. She knew Jo Myung Soo was panting from his efforts in holding her back, and he wasn't succeeding.

_How dare she? How dare she talk about her father? How. Dare. She?_

Rachel wasn't sure how much damage she'd caused, but she felt a _different _pair of arms around her waist. Strong arms. _Familiar_ arms. They held her in place, pulling her back. She stopped struggling, mainly because she couldn't. She was openly sobbing by now, half-blinded by tears.

_This was her punishment. _This was her punishment_. Oh Abeoji, do you know how I suffer? Do you know how I'm treated? Do you know how you are ridiculed? Oh Abeoji. Abeoji. What would you say if you could see me now?_

Rachel covered her face with her hands, still sobbing. She couldn't see or hear what was going on. She didn't care. _She didn't care._The arms around her waist loosened slightly.

She could hear Ye Sol screaming and crying too. Apparently she was being held back from attacking Rachel.

_How could she? How could she? How did she know? How did she find out? Oh Appa, my poor Appa. No._ . No! She would not do this. They'd already seen her weaknesses. They wouldn't see anymore.

They wanted a reaction? This was her reaction. Just the way she was built: nasty.

Rachel jerked herself away from him. She wiped her face on her sleeve; sure her eyes were swollen and unattractive.

Kang Ye Sol looked like a ravaged raccoon. Her eyes were turning black, her nose openly bleeding, her hair in disarray, and bloody lines on her face.

Rachel pushed away from Young Do, although he didn't even budge.

She felt a savage sort of satisfaction that he was witness to this. Now he would never like her. He would see his "kitty-cat" for who she truly was. Vicious claws and all.

Rachel made her way to her cowering teacher.

"I'll go to the principal's office now."


	12. Beautifully Boyish

Beautifully boyish

If you blew feathers in the air, when would they land? Where would they land?

These were the things that consumed Rachel's mind. These were the things that she preferred to focus on.

That trip to the principal's office had been disastrous. But Rachel had gotten off. The amount of money involved…just…too much money.

Rachel had only cared about it going on her school record. She didn't care about her reputation. She only cared about her academic record.

If Kang Ye Sol or Jeguk High did anything…anything to fuck with her pristine record, Ye Sol would end up blind and Kim Tan would have acid thrown on his face.

The violence of her thoughts was even more chilling because she thought of it all systematically, with all the details planned out.

She'd hit bottom. There was nowhere else to go.

* * *

Rachel relished the fear and notoriety that followed the next few weeks.

She had finally achieved her one secret desire: to be utterly and completely formidable…and despicable.

They'd pegged her as the Hateful Queen anyways. It had only been time before the Hateful Queen justly claimed the throne.

These fuckers wanted to play? She'd play.

* * *

"Unhinged" "Needs therapy" "Crazy" These whispers followed her everywhere. Except, she knew it would die out.

To maintain a fearsome reputation, you had to keep up standards. Choi Young Do was a master at this. As was Kim Tan, despite his ill-fitting mask.

Rachel had shown them all what she was capable of. They left her alone. Who knew whose face she'd scratch off next.

* * *

The news about her father had always been kept quiet. Esther Lee had bravely taken on the face of a power-hungry divorcee. The truth was much more bitter.

Living with a severely clinically depressed man had been harder when Esther became a mother. It had seemed romantic when they were young, her taking care of him, healing his wounds.

Except then her own wounds had started to fester. She wasn't a therapist, she was his wife. Too many lines had gotten blurred.

It was better this way. Or so they both told themselves at night or when they looked in the mirror.

* * *

Rachel had talked to Abeoji once during these trials—her trials. Everything in life was a trial. It all depended on how you handled it. Rachel had not handled it.

"Appa." She turned into a whiny little girl when she talked to him, speaking in a baby voice, making up for lost times..

"My darling." He indulged her. It was the only thing he could actually do.

"I miss you."

"How is my Rachel?"

"Not good, Appa, not good at all." She held back all the things she wanted to tell him. Her father was fragile. Words could destroy him. Why were fathers so fragile? Why couldn't they shoulder burdens?

"Why? You have to be. You must be."

"I try. I try."

"You don't know how bad life can get, my darling, you have to be good."

"I do, Appa, I know. People are bad. Life is bad." I am bad, she added silently. She had briefly mentioned a "fight" with a girl.

"Focus on school. Focus on school and standing on your own two feet."

"I will, Appa. I am focusing."

"Focus on yourself. Don't be like your Appa."

"No, Appa! Why do you say such things? Why shouldn't I be like my father?!"

But she knew why. Her father hadn't been able to wear his crown…it had been too heavy for him. Whereas Rachel had been fitted for it since birth, and she had no plans to relinquish it. Ever.

As if on cue, came the sounds of crying and apologies. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, my Rachel" It shook her to the core.

Hearing your father weak and crying was something she wouldn't even wish upon Kim Tan. It was torturous.

Rachel cried too then. Her father was the only man she'd allow herself to cry over properly. No one else.

What a pair. Like father, like daughter. He couldn't handle it. She couldn't handle it. They truly were a pair.

* * *

Jo Myung Soo was scared of Rachel.

Good. At least someone knew his place.

"What do you…what do you want to do our presentation on?"

Rachel pretended to think. They'd been given a month to work on it. It was now due in a week. He was asking her?

She wanted to fuck with him; she examined her nails and shrugged and said, "You tell me."

"Well, I was thinking…we could talk about the immigration experience of Koreans to America, we could use photographs to highlight the important points, like the riots in the 90s, and stuff like that"

Rachel let out a low whistle, noting that Myung Soo wrinkled his nose when she did that, and said, "Wow, that's…that's really impressive, Myung Soo. That, I mean, we have to get started on it soon, but that's…brilliant…" Rachel couldn't keep the earnestness out of her voice, and smiled genuinely at him.

He blinked in surprise and then slowly returned her smile.

He clapped his hands and said, "Let's get started!"

That move reminded her so much of Young Do that she had to pause for a second.

Just like Rachel and Young Do had always had a weird relationship, maybe he and Myung Soo did too—some hybrid brother/mentor/guilty conscience mix.

Of course Myung Soo would have some of the same mannerisms as him. Of course he would.

And as if he knew what she was thinking, Myung Soo blurted, "You whistle the way Young Do does. He does the same thing when he's impressed."

I know, Rachel thought, he whistled at me, a lot. And then felt instantly sad. She missed him. She missed everything about him.

She knew he looked more stressed these days. She knew he was barely in school. She knew sometimes he looked at Cha Eun Sang.

But she didn't know if he looked at her, because she didn't allow herself to look that long. She didn't want to make eye contact with him…it all made her too…sad.

So much wasted potential. Such a beautiful boy and beautiful girl (or so she thought) and how good they could have been together. All the things they could have been.

Sometimes Rachel wanted to drop everything and go to him…but…his words haunted her ears. "He was never going to make a move, Rachel. He is a boy. If a girl in a skimpy dress kisses him, he will like it. He's not a saint." Nasty Rachel reminded her.

But…what about that time in her room…and not just the kissing…he was always so close to her…always there…always around when she needed him…

And despite his horrific behavior, he was still a gentleman. He was a walking, talking contradiction. He opened doors for her, helped her put her coat on, carried her stuff, guided her sometimes. Then why? Why? Why did he have to be so difficult?

Why couldn't he just like her…why couldn't he be normal?

Why couldn't he just be the nice boy she sometimes saw glimpses of, all the time?

* * *

Rachel had always known how Choi Young Do really was.

She harbored no illusions about how strong and aggressive he could be if he wanted. He'd been blessed physically, oh how blessed—sometimes she'd get embarrassed when she thought about his body. His face. His arms. His shoulders.

But she didn't think of him that way. Their parents were dating, but hopefully it would end soon.

Except, she was lying to herself. She did think of him that way. And he liked to tease. That, she didn't like. He couldn't just say whatever he wanted. She had a fiancé.

But that didn't matter to Young Do or her fiancé.

That time he'd changed out of his karate uniform in front of her, Rachel had felt flustered. He'd been hot, sweaty, and vulnerable. And then he'd teased her again. She'd dismissed it.

Until the next time he did it again.

It was over. She was over. Tan had been over it since the beginning. But it was really, finally all over.

She was no longer engaged. She no longer had a fiancé. He'd shown her the exact scum he was composed of.

Rachel wanted to do something destructive. But what? Cut her hair? No! Dye it? Not really. Get a tattoo? No…too boring. Down a bottle of vodka? Too much effort. Score some cocaine and party with K-pop stars? Too much work. Make a sex tape and send it to Kim Tan? No, too pathetic…and disgusting. Especially after the way he'd kissed her—he'd probably enjoy it.

Also who would she do it with? And what virgin recorded her first time?

What could she do? What. Could. She. Do?

* * *

The next week Rachel did partake in something destructive.

She kissed Hyo-Shin. And then he kissed her back.

And then they were in a relationship. Or so she thought.

And all her previous assumptions about him had been systematically shattered:

He wasn't relaxed—he was depressed.  
He wasn't driven—he wanted to be a filmmaker.  
He wasn't calm and collected—he was a ball of anxious nerves.  
He wasn't a gentleman—he ran to Min Ji (or whatever her name was) as soon as she left Jeguk.  
He wasn't into Rachel—he was bored.  
He wasn't sincere. He wasn't nice. And then he went to the military.

And that was it. The last time she'd seen him was the night of the banquet, when she'd kissed Young Do. And even then he didn't have the courtesy to come apologize.

His parting words had been, "But we weren't really together. We were just…Min Joo and I have a history…you'll find a nice boy…"

How wrongly she'd assumed everything about him.

* * *

What could she do? Rachel wandered by the broadcasting room, looking for Lee Bo Na, but actually looking for Hyo-Shin…he was always calm and relaxed.

Maybe she could do something destructive with him. If Rachel had been a different person, she might have winked as she thought that.

She heard yelling, as she approached the room, and then the sound of a chair being thrown.

Before she could move, the door opened with a bang, the sound reverberating throughout the hallway.

Kim Tan stormed out, and stopped when he saw Rachel. He rounded on her, yelling, making her jump,  
"Things end between us and the first thing you do is go running to Choi Young Do?!"

Eun Sang and Young Do stepped out at the same time, looking bewildered.

Running to Choi Young Do? When had she ever run to Choi Young Do?

Kim Tan looked so unattractive. He was screaming at her. An inch away from her face. Screaming at her.

Rachel couldn't help but shake, and Kim Tan took advantage of that. He took a step closer, forcing her back, "Stay away from me. Stay away from Cha Eun Sang. And stay away from Choi Young Do."

Rachel couldn't think anymore. She could only stare up at Kim Tan's no longer handsome face.

She could only stare at him until her eyes hurt.

She could only stare at him until she felt herself being led away by Choi Young Do.

She snatched her arm from his grasp and turned on her heel and ran.

* * *

She ended up on the roof. The godforsaken roof. What if she jumped? What if she killed herself at this very moment? What if she ended it all?

No. Rachel knew better. These things weren't funny. They were actually very bad. They were terrible. Her father had been suic…no, she wasn't going to think of such things right now.

Rachel did an emotional check on herself. Was she angry? No. Sad? No. Numb? Yes. Shaking? Yes. This wasn't anger, but she felt emotion bubbling up.

She was grinding her teeth. She was locking her jaw.

She imagined a bat. A wooden baseball bat. She imagined slamming that baseball bat into Kim Tan's knees. Then the back of his knees. And then across his nose. And then a few hits on his spinal cord.

"Bastard Heir of Jeguk Lives Up to His Birthright and Ends Up In a Coma" she imagined the headlines.

She felt better—it was quite amazing. Mental violence might just be the solution to her problems.

Rachel closed her eyes and sank down. The roof floor was a little cold under her skirt but she needed solitude to think.

What had he said about Choi Young Do? When had she gone running to him? What was Kim Tan talking about?

Rachel heard the door open and opened her eyes. As if he'd heard his own name, Young Do materialized in the doorway.

"I thought you were here."

Rachel didn't say anything. She had nothing to say. She watched him as he walked over and sat down next to her, his outstretched legs touching hers.

"So I take it it's finally over?"

She didn't answer. She didn't have the energy.

"Rachel—"

She cut him off, "Wasn't it you who told me, in that very room downstairs, that I made the mistake of liking Kim Tan? That I was to be blamed? That I was the one who was wrong? Wasn't it? So then why are you asking if it's finally over?"

He didn't say anything. Rachel felt that violent urge again. She wanted to throw something but there was nothing around. She brought up her knees and rested her head on her folded arms.

Was this how her father felt? Rachel never applied the word…depressed…to herself.

Depression was not a good thing. It consumed your soul. She felt like something was consuming her soul. She also felt like she was suffocating. But it wasn't sadness…it was closer to rage.

A cool breeze promised rain, and Rachel shivered. She felt his hand stroke her hair and the back of her neck. She didn't care enough to shake him off.

She stayed in that position for a while. And fought down the urge to howl in frustration. He moved his hand across her shoulders.

She lifted her head, and tried to put as much venom in her voice as possible, "I hate Kim Tan."

He examined her face, and said "I know…"

"I hate everyone."

He laughed.

"Don't laugh. It's not funny."

He stopped when he realized how serious she was.

"You can't let them win, Rachel."

"Win? Really? I can't let them win? I'm sure you had a field day when you heard the news."

His face was grave now, "No…I didn't…"

"Don't fucking lie to me" Her voice was quiet.

He looked surprised, then anger started to unfurl on his face, "Excuse me?"

She brought her face closer to his, and whispered, "Don't try to pull that shit with me, okay? I'm no longer Kim Tan's fiancé. You don't know what I'll do."

His gaze smoldered, "Really?" He narrowed his eyes, "Really? What can you do? What can you possibly do?"

Rachel didn't want to have this conversation anymore. She didn't want anything anymore.

"This." And she got up and started walking away.

He was faster on his feet though—he grabbed her wrist and spun her around.

"No, no, no, don't leave. Show me what you can do. Let's collaborate, and show Kim Tan what we can do." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

He grabbed her by the the elbows, and she unconsciously grasped his arms.

"Just stop, Young Do, just please stop." She couldn't make eye contact with him.

"No. Listen to me. I know he broke your heart…let's get together and break his."

"No!" She cut in, "No! He didn't break my heart…he didn't…I wouldn't let him break my heart…and just stop, please stop saying things like that…"

Young Do pulled her closer, and she couldn't help but lean into him. He brushed his thumb against her jaw, and gently said, "It's okay to say it to me. You can say it to me."

She kept her eyes down, but her mouth was quivering. She refused to cry though. She wouldn't cry over Kim Tan.

"Rachel, it's okay to be sad…" His thumb moved to her chin, and lifted it up, so she had to look at him.

This up close, she could tell that he…shaved…and she felt a spark…he shaved…how wonderfully, beautifully boyish…

He'd moved his hands to her back, cradling her, and bent his head down further, "Listen to me, you can tell me anything, okay?"

She nodded, and it was as if there was something in the air, because if she stood on her tiptoes, she'd easily be able to reach his lips…

He seemed to have come to the same realization too, because he moved his hands to her shoulders, when—

A sudden downpour started. They both raised their heads in unison, their almost-kiss deliberately forgotten.

And it remained forgotten, especially because she used Hyo-Shin to forget. And then learned her lesson.

* * *

Rachel didn't have friends. She had…people she knew. She had…Lee Bo Na…on her good days…which were far and few.

Otherwise she had no one.

Friends were overrated anyways.

But…she did have…Johnny. Johnny Kim. Junghwan "Johnny" Kim. The only boy she'd willingly marry in a heartbeat, without any qualms, if he ever asked. But he never would.

He had been her silent companion through her terrible times: The fights. Her father. The divorce. Tan's departure to America. Tan.

Sometimes she thought she'd conjured Johnny up, as if he was some figment of her imagination…but he was real. Very real. He was…just…out of this world. Extreme in every sense of the word.

If Johnny had been around when she broke up with Tan, there might have been no Hyo-Shin. Or Young Do, for that matter. And it would have saved her a lot of pain and heartbreak.

But he was a model. A model traveling all over the world. If she hadn't met him at one of her mother's shoots, they would never have been friends.

Whenever he rolled into town, those very very rare occasions, it was like a hurricane had hit. He rocked her world. Not that way. But Rachel was always appreciative of her life afterwards.

Except she only saw him, maybe once…or twice a year…if that.

But, it was almost as if he could sense when she needed him the most…because he always appeared then.

* * *

She was slowly unraveling around the edges.

Rachel had been going straight home after school, and watching movies in the dark of her room.

She would shut off all the lights, and put something old on…and let it play in the background, while she closed her eyes and simply lay there.

This was her therapy. Her mother, used to Rachel's idiosyncrasies, would only look at her worryingly, not saying anything.

She'd suggested actual therapy, as a reinforcement, but Rachel didn't want to. She had boy problems and self esteem issues. Not real problems.

* * *

Esther had been furious about her "antics" until Rachel actually told her what Ye Sol had said that warranted such a thorough, although not literal, ass-kicking.

Rachel had refused up until that point to discuss why she had attacked Ye Sol, further infuriating her mother, until after one particularly awful tirade from Esther, Rachel had blurted it out in a fit of frustration.

Esther had inhaled so sharply—-it had sounded like a scream. She'd been shocked into silence.

She left Rachel alone for a while after that about her "behavior".

* * *

Rachel came home, stepped out of her skirt, balled up her shirt, and collapsed face down in her bed, still wearing her slip.

She was exhausted. Young Do had been late to school today, and had breezed into their Euro-lit class, accidentally brushing Rachel's arm as he passed.

Rachel rolled over so she could turn on a movie—any movie, except her door opened abruptly—

For a second, one fucking second, her treacherous heart skipped a beat, and let her think—hope—wish it might be Young Do…

It wasn't Young Do. It was someone else…Someone else who could make her heart skip a beat: Johnny Kim.

* * *

Rachel sat up and blinked at his outlined figure in the sudden light, silhouetting him in the doorway.

"Oh, Rachel." He breathed.

With that one sentiment, the floodgates opened.

"Oh, Johnny…" Her voice wobbled, and tears automatically started pouring down her face.

He moved towards her, keeping the lights off, and gathered her in his arms. "Your Omma called me. She said you've been having a bad month."

So her mother had been bothered enough to call in reinforcements that would actually benefit Rachel.

Young Do might have been the only other boy she allowed (or wanted) on her bed, but Johnny was the only one who would have permission from both Rachel and her mother to be there.

* * *

They lay there for a while, and she quietly, painfully filled him in on the details he'd missed.

When she told him about Hyo-Shin, he cringed. His expression through out her sordid tales about Tan was…sordid. When she told him about Ye Sol, he was grinning, especially when she showed him a picture ("Those eyebrows!") but when she told him why she scratched her face, his grin slid off.

When she told him about…Young Do, he only listened and held her hand. Then he hugged her tight.

It was better this way for them—they didn't bother skyping or emailing or texting or any of those things. She only told him these things in person. Otherwise, she kept it all inside.

He told her about visiting the Red Light district in Amsterdam. His other modeling gigs. His relationship problems, which were usually of a sexual nature, and made her laugh, while being highly mortified.

* * *

He suggested they go out. They never went out. He was usually only in Korea for 2 days, and they would typically spend it holed up in her room.

"You can do your therapy later. It's Friday night. Come see how the rest of Seoul lives, princess."

She was in Johnny's hands now. She'd do whatever he said.

He ordered her to wear her sexiest dress, which happened to be her white Gucci backless…

He put fake eyelashes on her, which were more dramatic than she'd go for, but she liked how she looked in them: simultaneously sad and sultry.

He himself wore a skinny suit like it was second skin. He was a model. It wasn't hard for him to look good.

After lots of deliberation, he made her wear her padlocked Tom Fords.

"I hold the key to those," he said, pointing at the locks. "Tonight, your back, your legs, your body, your heart, it's all mine. No one else. You're mine, you understand?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, albeit nicely. He was ridiculous. But he was her type of ridiculous.

* * *

They went to dinner first.

Then…they went to a club. It was her second time, and if it had been anyone else, anyone else but Johnny, she would've refused.

It was…it was an experience. And it was turning into a fun night, but of course because she was Rachel and the universe HATED her, it all went to shit.

* * *

For someone so beautifully boyish, Johnny could look threatening with just one flicker in his eyes. So, even though Rachel attracted stares, no one was brave enough to do more than that.

They danced a little. As much as they could. She didn't want to get sweaty either. She was also keen to observe what clubs looked like.

She and Johnny ended up at the bar. He was gulping down copious amounts of water, while she played with the straw of her drink.

Rachel observed her surroundings and couldn't stop a prickly feeling on her back. It was as if someone was running their fingers down her back…the only person to do that had been Young Do…

She'd felt it earlier, when a group of overly cologned, loud, Japanese businessmen had congregated in a corner. Their gregarious laughs and shouts kept getting louder, but it hadn't bothered her, except she hadn't been able to shake off that feeling. But then Johnny had distracted her.

Now it felt more pronounced, and she asked Johnny to check her back.

She hoped it wasn't some godforsaken allergic reaction.  
Especially when she was displaying that much skin.

She casually turned, subtly checking if the Japanese businessman had some…thing…going on that made her feel this way.

She quickly scanned them and felt her heart slam into her throat: the prickly finger feeling on her naked back could only be attributed to the only one whose hands had been there—Choi Young Do.

* * *

It was Young Do as she'd never seen him before. He was wearing a black suit, with the collar unbuttoned. He looked undone, but it worked.

Oh, how it worked.

He didn't look like a boy. He looked like a proper man. And it made her jittery.

He was also incredibly pissed off. And only she could tell. She knew him so well that she could read his body language even from a distance, even from being distant for a month—from the tilt of his head to the way he was smoking his cigarette.

More like he was sucking on it…which she'd seen him do enough to know he was furious about something…and he was looking right at her…

Rachel turned around so quickly she whipped Johnny in the face with her hair.

"So you finally noticed…" Johnny's voice was light.

"Johnny. Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice came out panicky.

"I wanted you to be natural. That's Choi Young Do, I presume? With those eyebrows, and that height, he could easily be a model."

"Shut. Up." Rachel hissed.

"He's been staring at you this whole time. You really can't tell about boys, can you, Rachel?" Johnny's voice was gentle.

She could only shake her head.

Johnny lazily looked around, and stilled, then abruptly answered his phone. "Be cool," he whispered, before dropping a kiss on her forehead, and walking away, talking in English.

Rachel shook her head again, about to call after Johnny, when she felt…his presence.

He trailed his fingers around her back before heavily settling down on the stool Johnny had just vacated.

"Hello Rachel, you never came to find me…but you found someone else…" His voice was deeper than usual, and sent shivers down her spine.

She could only regard him in silence, her heart quaking, her hands (slightly) shaking. She licked her lips, and could only say his name, "Young Do…"

He responded by hooking his foot around the bottom of her stool and yanking her close, effectively enclosing her between his long legs.

He was always like this, hovering over her, surrounding her, and he was so tall, so broad, so large that she always felt both protected and scared.

She was truly scared right now. He looked a little flushed, and she wasn't sure if it was his anger, or the cigarette, or the alcohol.

"So…whose the guy?" He asked in clipped tones.

"My…my friend…" Her voice came out in a whisper.

"You have friends?!" He guffawed loudly.

Rachel frowned at him, and snapped, "Don't be an asshole."

He stopped laughing, and tilted his head to the side, and smirked, "You look like a bruised angel…and don't you know? I was born an asshole." He whispered this last part in her ear, some of his cigarette ash falling on her leg.

"Tsk. Let me get that for you," he laughed and brushed it off her leg, his hand lingering there.

What a difference a month made.

She stared up at him, "Young Do, what…what are you doing? She asked cautiously.

He exhaled sharply, discarding his cigarette. "Always that question. 'What are you doing?' 'What are you doing?' What do you THINK I'm doing?" He slammed his hand against the marble counter, making her jump.

To her horror, she felt tears well up in her eyes, and she looked away, blinking her eyes quickly. She pretended to fix her bangs, but then he grabbed her hand.

"You have such pretty hands. Always so pretty." He stroked her palm with his thumb. Then he played with her fingers, fiddling with her rings.

He grabbed her middle finger and twisted her ring around, "I bet this is your favorite finger. You can fuck everyone off with this."

Rachel was frozen. He was different tonight…almost foreign…not the boy she knew. He didn't look like the boy who'd been upset about his mother, or who listened to her long-winded stories about her shoes or her grades, patiently.

He looked like the boy her mother would warn her about, if her mother had ever done anything so corny.

He continued playing with her hand, and then leaned close and softly said, "You know what my favorite fingers are…?"

She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear what he was going to say.

He wiggled his index and middle fingers. "And they'd really like to get to know you…well." He cocked his eyebrow at her, and bit his lip, clearly amused with himself.

Rachel wasn't sure if this is what an aneurysm felt like, but she wanted her blood to burst.

She'd also felt a jolt shooting up her legs.

She snatched her hand out of his, and stood up, ending up almost nose to nose with him. Good. He'd be able to see exactly how she felt.

"I can't believe you, Young Do. I cannot believe you. I never…never…ever thought you'd be capable. I never…I knew you were bad, but I didn't know you'd be so…so…I can't believe you…"

His mouth instantly turned downwards. "Rachel—"

"No! NO! You couldn't tell me you liked me, but you can say things this?! This, you could say?! You don't talk to me for a month, and this is what you choose to say?!" She was practically screaming.

Her fake eyelashes were getting wet, and her mouth tasted salty.

She stepped over his leg, and away from him. He grabbed her arm, and she jerked it free. "Don't! Don't touch me, you overgrown lout! You truly are an asshole."

She walked rapidly towards the bathroom, and collided into Johnny, who'd made his way back.

"Rachel, sweetie, wha—?" He grabbed her shoulders and his expression was so concerned and so sweet that Rachel started crying in earnest.

"I'm…I'm…fine…I just…I just have to fix my makeup." She sobbed out, and wriggled out of his grasp and locked herself in the bathroom.

It wasn't a bathroom. There was no toilet or sink. It was just a powder room?

It was well-lit, and red with mirrors all over. There was a gorgeous settee in the corner, and it was as if the space had been personally designed for someone as narcissistic as Rachel.

She sobered up as soon as she saw her reflection. In all the mirrors. She looked…fucking…glorious.

Who cared about anyone or anything when she looked the way she looked?

She fixed her lashes, and reapplied her lipstick. She heard a knocking on the door, but ignored it until she heard Johnny's voice at the door.

"Rachel? Rachel, are you alright?"

She cleared her throat, and gave her reflections one final nod, before opening the door…to find Young Do standing there, his expression thunderous.

He strolled into the bathroom, making her walk backwards, and locked the door.

He loomed over her and whispered, "Remember when I told you that one day, I would come to collect? Well, today's the day…I've come to collect."

With that, he pulled her hips against his, bent down his head and kissed her.


	13. Come Find Me

**Come Find Me**

Rachel kissed him back. She knew, somewhere deep down, that she was only ruining her own heart by doing so, but she wanted to kiss him.

Oh, she wanted to. Dearly. Young Do held her right by the hips, his hands fixed in place. So she took the opportunity to roam…

And roam she did—there was just something about him—no, actually it was everything about him…she relished every opportunity to get closer to him.

She ran her hands up his hard, hard stomach. His body contrasted hers in every way—and she thrived in that knowledge.

The fact that she could do anything—touch him as freely as she wanted, and he seemed to want her to, enthralled her to no end.

She moved her hands to his chest and settled them on his shoulders.

She loved his shoulders.

Young Do appeared to like her explorations, because he backed her against the mirror.

It felt cold on her back and she gasped against his mouth.

He raised his head to look at her, and there was something dark in his eyes.

He trailed his hands up and down her sides, and then—flipped her around so she was facing the mirror.

"Young Do-ah?" Her voice was a murmur—she almost didn't recognize it.

"Shhhh…" He dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder, and then lifted her hair from her neck and kissed it.

Rachel shivered.

Young Do braced both his hands on either side of her head. She could see his expression…he didn't look like her Young Do, but this one still sent the blood coursing through her veins.

He kissed her shoulder blade again.

Slowly, he made his way down her back. Her naked back. She hadn't worn a bra this time.

Rachel knew people did more provocative, more physical things, but this was enough for her. More than enough.

She wasn't sure what he was doing. A part of her was frightened to the core. The other part didn't want him to stop. Thank god Nasty Rachel had shut up for a while.

He was moving lower, and when he reached the small of her back, she jumped.

At once he straightened up, and took her hands in his. He planted their joint hands against the mirror.

Young Do looked at her reflection, and kissed the side of her neck, all the while maintaining eye contact with her.

Rachel was too scared to look at her own expression, so she kept her eyes locked with his.

The longer they looked at each other, the more she felt…she felt…she bit her lip to control her reactions.

He continued down her neck and she arched into him. He tightened his hold on her hands, and kept getting lower until he'd reached her waist.

She was fully trembling by this point.

He let go of her hands, which had been clutching his for dear life, and knelt down on the floor, giving her one last kiss on the side of her back.

Rachel was confused and her heart her mind her legs her hands her knees they were all having palpitations.

She sunk down, on shaky legs, facing him. They stared at each other.

His expression was grave. And there was that worried furrow in his eyebrow.

He had been acting strange since he'd first sat down, and she wondered if he was drunk. But he hadn't tasted like alcohol…

"Young Do?" She ventured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you…okay? What's wrong?"

The actual question she wanted to ask was, "What the hell did you just do to me?"

A shadow passed over his face as he answered, "Everything."

Before she could formulate a thought, he'd risen on his knees and pulled her against him and kissed her…hard.

He was more rough than he'd ever been, and it seemed like he was trying to get lost in her.

He also seemed to want to make her lose her mind:

He kept kissing her, completely dominating—and then—he sucked her tongue.

He sucked on her tongue—and it felt weird yet wonderful, at the same time.

Rachel held onto his shoulders for dear life, her front melded to his front.

She couldn't help but make a…low moaning…sound…and although it seemed impossible, he deepened the kiss even more.

Young Do moved his hands up, inside her dress, encircling her waist—his fingers splayed across her lower waist, his thumbs rubbing circles around her stomach.

Rachel couldn't help but move against him—there were too many sensations…and then…

She'd read about it in magazines.

In stupid American romance novels that were more dirty than anything, that Bo Na had made her read for "education, so we know what to do when we get married".

She'd never felt it with Tan (who barely kissed her, except for that one horrific time) or Hyo-Shin (they'd only had 3 stifled kisses).

The only other boy she hugged was Johnny (and thank god she'd never felt it—they'd both rather scald themselves with molten liquid gold)…

But, although she wasn't one hundred percent sure…she could almost almost swear she…felt…something…from him…down where…they were practically attached at the hips…

Rachel, for lack of a better word, freaked out (silently) and pulled away from him…putting only a little distance between them.

They were both panting heavily, and while she was no longer plastered against him, he was still holding her waist.

Her whole body was hot…and she couldn't meet his eyes…she wasn't sure if…she…was sure…about what she was sure about…

She was definitely losing it.

She gathered up the nerve to look him in the eye…and he was staring at her, his eyes stormy.

Rachel felt scared, again. She opened her mouth to say something…anything…should she say anything? Comfort him?!

Young Do kissed her again, taking her lower lip in between his…but…then…he abruptly stopped—practically pushing her away…because now she…actually they both…definitely…felt something.

Rachel stared at him with round eyes.

Young Do put more distance between them, basically scooting away, until he came up against the settee. and cleared his throat. He sat with his long legs wide open, his fists clenched.

"Stay there for a few seconds." His voice was more gravelly than ever.

Rachel was confused and a little hurt. She should have been telling him to stay away!

Yet, she had an inkling of what was going on…couldn't help but blurt out, "Why?"

There was silence. An excruciating stretch of silence.

He made a face, and with his voice still raw, snapped, "You ask really obvious questions. Why do you think?"

She blushed. She felt embarrassed, both at her…question…and her stupidity.

But how was she supposed to know? He was the only boy to ever kiss her like that.

He was still staring at her incredulously, so she told him.

"How am I supposed to know? You're the only one who's ever kissed me like that." Her voice came out biting.

It was subtle. Very subtle: but he went very still at this admission. If he was a wolf, his ears would have perked up.

He tilted his head, and gestured to her to come over.

Rachel hesitated, but acquiesced when he softly said, "Please."

She knew her legs would give, if she stood, so she crawled over to him, and sat just by his open knees.

He'd followed her movements with his squinty was reminded of the last time they'd sat this close, her in the same dress.

How far they'd come, yet how far they were.

Young Do's hair was flopping all over, and his mouth was smeared with lipstick. So was hers.

He cleared his throat again. She moved from her kneeling position to sit cross legged in front of him.

He could probably see her underwear, but that was the least of her concerns at the moment.

He stared at her shoes, "Those are…those are…some shoes."

She examined them too and found herself coolly saying, "I know. Johnny said they were made for me. He said they show off my hidden dominatrix side."

She looked up to see him watching her, with an unamused expression.

"He says things like that to you? Do you even know what dominatrixes are? What they do?"

"Yes," She huffed. "Yes, I know what dominatrixes are!"

"What are they, then?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"They…they…like…they…you know what they are!"

He actually burst out laughing at that.

They were falling back into their old pattern. As if nothing had happened. Except, a lot had. And just because he was the most gorgeous boy she had seen (or kissed) didn't excuse his actions.

Instantly she felt her mood go down.

They were back to the old pattern—her asking, him not answering.

She stiffened and went back to staring at him.

"Your whole mouth is red right now. You're gonna get that on your clothes." She said flatly.

He tilted his head to the side and shrugged, "I don't mind it. I also got it on your back."

"On my back?" Rachel was confused.

"Turn around." He moved her hair from her shoulder, and she saw…smudged lip prints all over back. This time he'd left his mark.

She whirled around to look at him, and he raised an eyebrow. "Would you like me to add more?" He winked at her.

Rachel felt desire then: the desire to kiss him senseless, and the desire to knock him senseless, for saying and doing such things.

She felt a spurt of anger. "Did you find what you came here to collect, Young Do?!"

He rubbed his eyebrow, and looked  
down at his hands.

"Well? Tell me! Did you get everything you wanted to collect?!"

"No! No, I didn't! If I had collected, it wouldn't just be lipstick on your back!"

Rachel felt her breath leave her body. She'd just felt the physical evidence, but she'd never thought he…wanted those things…at least…not yet.

Her breath left, and Nasty Rachel returned. Except she was Rachel this time.

"Is that all you think I am? What I'm good for?!" She knew he didn't mean it that way, "But maybe he did…" Nasty Rachel reminded her.

Young Do looked at her in disbelief, "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Are you?" Rachel countered. "You say these things to me. These…these…inappropriate things, and you're asking me if I'm crazy?"

"Inappropriate? What have I said that was so inappropriate?" His voice was polite sarcasm.

"You know exactly what." She tried to imitate his deadliest quiet voice.

He just looked at her, and Rachel decided enough was enough

Pretending that she was playing a role in a movie helped her get through her next actions—

She crawled in between Young Do's knees and ignored his slight convulsion.

She kissed him softly on the mouth, and then kissed the edge of his ear, and whispered "You're not ready for this, that's fine with me. Come find me when you are. Just don't take long."

He'd frozen completely, so she employed the boldness he usually exhibited, and bit his ear, quickly moving away from him before he regained his senses.

Rachel carefully stood up, and avoided his heated stare. She was intent on getting the hell out of there.

She only spared a glance at the mirror, and "fixed" her lipstick, and practically ran from there, when she saw that he was beginning to stir, closing the door behind him, hoping it would be enough to deter him.

Rachel saw Johnny yawning away at the bar. The jet lag was setting in.

"Ukh, there you are! Did he even apologize? I only let him through because he said he wanted to apologize…not make out with you, which he clearly did."

Johnny had "let him through"?!

Rachel felt her cheeks warm, both with annoyance and embarrassment. "Let's discuss this all later. I'm trying to run away from him."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Your life is so dramatic. Anyways, let's go. I'm shattered."

As they walked towards the exit, Rachel inwardly thanked her stars for having at least one good friend.

She determinedly kept her gaze on the doors straight ahead: her Young Do senses were tingling.

Good friend or not, Johnny could still be brutal and irritating, "First, he's standing right in the doorway of that room you so graciously exited. Is your Invisibility Shield on? Because I'm sure he can see you. And you're not even running. Walk faster!"

Rachel bit down a retort, but took the bait and turned to look at Young Do.

He was indeed standing in the doorway, glaring at Rachel, his fist bunched against the side of the doorframe. He looked like he was ready to punch something.

He could also cross the club and block their exit in about 5 strides, and she wanted to get out before he decided to!

Johnny impatiently tutted, and grabbed Rachel's hand, practically dragging her outside, before depositing her in the backseat of the car, sliding in next to her.

He shook his head and looked at her, his voice whiny with sleep "Second, what the hell is on your back? What kind of kinky shit are you 19 year-olds into?! Do I need to break his bones?"

Rachel snorted and rolled her eyes, hoping to distract him from his thoroughly valid question, "You're an idiot. Go to sleep."

And he did. Johnny knocked out within seconds. Getting him inside the house would be a pain she would deal with later.

Deep down though, she'd wondered the same thing. Young Do never minded her lipstick, and always examined them. Maybe…it was…some…fetish? A lipstick fetish?

And tonight that's what he'd tried to show her? That's what he'd come to collect?

Rachel shuddered slightly. She couldn't get him to be her boyfriend, yet she'd gotten him to do this.

She felt sleepy too. At this rate, they'd both sleep in the car.

Rachel decided she would process this all tomorrow with Johnny, before his flight to Tokyo.

She was nestling her head against his shoulder, when she felt her phone buzz.

She read the message, and nearly woke up Johnny, her heart pounding.

Rachel took a deep breath, and grabbed Johnny's hand for comfort, holding it tight.

He murmured in his sleep, but put his arm around Rachel. She clutched his stomach nervously, trying to soothe herself.

All her sleepiness had been vanquished, replaced by anxiety and nerves, good and bad.

The text had been from Young Do:

"You're such a fan of running away. It's okay, I'll deal with it later. I need to teach you a few things about that. So, you want me to find you when I'm 'ready'? Don't worry, Rachel, I won't take long. The question is, will YOU be ready for when I do? Just prepare yourself. You won't be asking me 'what are you doing?' anymore. You'll know. I'll make sure you know. Get ready—sometime tomorrow, I'm going to come find' you."


	14. Like A Flamingo

Rachel dropped Johnny and her Omma off at the airport in a haze of sleep and tears and anxious nerves.

They were both leaving her. And she would have to deal with everything by herself.

Johnny's assessment of the situation had been, "He likes you, but he's also a guy. We do things like that."

Rachel had thrown a pillow at him for such stupid and useless opinions.

"Just talk to him. Don't avoid him. Or run away."

Why did they both think she always ran away? She'd only done it a few times…

Johnny had kissed her on the forehead, and seemed melancholic too. "Rachel, let's move into the new century. Maybe it's better for both of us to text and call. Maybe our old ways are why we are the way we are." It was confusing, but it made sense to her. She needed him, and he needed her.

Her mother hugged her. She would be back in a week. Leaving Rachel all alone. It was fine. She had a wonderful paper with Myung Soo to look forward to.

And dealing with Choi Young Do.

* * *

Myung Soo had texted her to work on the paper, as it was due within a few days.

Rachel had never been to his studio, so it was interesting to see that this was where everyone else socialized. Having a good old time. While she was usually alone.

Myung Soo looked antsy from the moment she arrived, as if he was going to wet himself.

He pouted cutely, "Rachel! I forgot my camera at a…club! It's expensive, and I need it back right away, or I'm a dead man. Do you mind waiting for me? I'll be your personal slave, just please!"

She decided to be nice, because he was so…strange…and Myung Soo practically ran out the door.

Rachel shook her head. He was sweet but she wondered if maybe he'd been dropped on his head a few times too many as a baby.

And he was suspiciously good at the aegyo act. He was better than Rachel. Which wasn't saying much.

Rachel's _iPad_ was better at aegyo than Rachel.. A _rock_ was better at aegyo than Rachel._ Young Do_ was probably better at aegyo than Rachel

She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts and pulled out her bunny eared iPad. It _was_ cuter than her...but...who cared? It was better to go through life looking like a dead-eyed ice princess. At least then she could turn people's assumptions on their heads.

Rachel continued her research, and was completely immersed in it. She put in her headphones, and zoned out for a while, focused only on typing.

An hour later, Myung Soo, the idiot, still hadn't returned.

Why was she always suckered into these things?

Rachel pulled out her phone and called him. Of course he didn't pick up. Except, if he thought he was being slick, he had another think coming.

She left him a voicemail, "Ya, Jo Myung Soo! Where the hell did you go?! I swear, if you don't get back here in the next hour, I'm gonna ruin all your undeveloped film!"

Rachel hung up, only feeling mildly satisfied. Now what? She felt a weird sensation, almost a tingling feeling on her spine, but shook it off.

It was probably from sitting in the same position, working on a project that was supposed to be _with a partner!_

Rachel knew she was heading towards irrational anger, and the last time that happened, she'd ripped someone's face. She couldn't do the same thing again.

She got up and stretched, hoping that the oxygen to her brain would calm her down.

She stretched her arms behind her neck, and then bent over to stretch her legs. Thank god she was wearing high waisted shorts. She wouldn't put it past Myung Soo to have some cameras around.

She gave the middle finger to the empty room, just in case.

It was quiet. Too quiet. She could get _murdered_ here and no one would know. She hadn't told anyone she was coming here.

She looked too nice to die today. Although...her outfit _was_ good enough to be murdered in.

She'd worn shorts, and a lemon blossom-print Dolce and Gabbana bustier top. She'd thrown a sweater over it to keep it from looking too...exposed.

The tingling feeling was back, and either it was paralysis setting in, or...

Rachel closed her eyes and finally raised her arms to fully stretch her body when-someone tickled her waist.

She screamed, and in a highly questionable move, which would actually get her murdered, she stupidly grabbed at the arms of the person-the arms of Young Do.

"What is this? You really are dumb about certain things."

Rachel's heart was beating overtime, and her genuine fright had made her break out into a light sweat.

She held onto his arms, "You scared me." Her voice was breathy.

He wiped the sweat from her nose. Which was slightly gross, but also slightly cute? What was wrong with her?

"So if someone sneaks up on you, you...grab them?" His tone was skeptical.

"No, I, I knew it was you." They both knew she was lying.

He looked her up and down and said, "At least you moved your knee up...that might hinder someone...for a second. Except...in those little high-waisted shorts..."

She looked down at her legs. And back up at him. "They're not that short."

He sighed. "I'm going to have to teach you self-defense. For when I'm not there."

Rachel warmed up at those words, but blurted out, "But how will I defend myself from you?"

Young Do blinked. "You need to defend yourself from me?" His voice was light.

Rachel realized their positions-she was still holding his arms, and he was holding hers. It was almost funny.

She felt dizzy. "I need to sit down." She took his arm, and led him to the sofa. More like pulled him-he was heavy.

Halfway there, he changed his mind, and-he was fast: he twisted her arm behind her back, his other arm across her neck. He held her firm, but loose.

"Constant vigilance," he said in her ear, "You always have to be vigilant. I told you to be ready."

"Thank you for the lesson, now let go of me." Her voice was too squeaky. He felt too warm and solid behind her. She couldn't focus.

"I'm only just beginning." His voice was quiet, and she knew she was in trouble.

She struggled against him. "Young Doooo, _stoooopppp_." In the few hours she'd spent with him, Rachel had perfectly adopted Johnny's whining.

"You're just making it worse for yourself."

"We look crazy. Myung Soo will walk in any second."

"Myung Soo's holed up in a room at Zeus. He'll be gone for hours. We could be here all night..."

Dammit. That's where that idiot had run off to. Moron!

She knew it was an idle threat, but she needed to keep up with this act. "My...mom..."

"Is in Tokyo, with your _best friend_, Johnny. Myung Soo told me" He finished for her.

"So you really plan to keep me here all night? And just what are we going to do?"

He'd been lightly swaying them, but he stilled at those words.

"Whatever you like..."

Rachel realized her mistake. But innuendo was not her forte...it was his.

Of course it was. He loved to talk nonsense.

She tried to step on his foot, but to no avail. She tried elbowing him, but it didn't work. She was out of moves...except...

She summoned up the courage from deep deep inside herself and did something that would horrify her later: she slowly, deliberately arched against him...and he was so startled that he let go.

Rachel took advantage of his loosened hold, and wriggled free.

She turned around and wrapped her leg around his waist. Standing only on her other leg, like a flamingo.

Her arms around his neck to keep herself from teetering over, she gently punched his chin and said "This is how I'd defend myself from you."

He stared down at her, stone faced, and Rachel realized the connotations of just how she was standing, she started to disengage-he kicked out her leg from under her, but caught her right before she hit the ground.

He raised her up, and said, "Don't look so triumphant, you-ya! What's that on your neck?!"

"What? What's on my neck?!"

He instantly dipped his head, and bit her. On the neck. Like a vampire.

"What...are...you...-"

"Don't say it! Do _not_ finish that sentence. Do _not_ ask me what I'm doing!"

It was an odd sensation, he kept placing kisses on her neck, and bit it again.

It was also odd, the places her mind went to. She could barely concentrate, but it was also bizarre to think...that this boy was kissing her...like this...when before...he bit her harder, and she yelped, "Young Do!"

"Sorry." Except he didn't sound sorry at all. Then he kissed her chin.

They looked at each other, and then he kissed the corner of her mouth.

Then her nose.

Then her cheeks.

Then her forehead.

Then her eyes.

Then her jaw.

Then the other corner of her mouth.

Rachel leaned in to kiss his mouth, but he pulled back.

"I brought us treats." He smirked.

And Rachel wondered if maybe she should've heeded his warning of being ready. Because she felt...discombobulated.

He'd done weird stuff yesterday. He'd said weird stuff yesterday. He was doing weird things today. And she was still in the dark.

He pressed a drink into her hand. A mango drink. From a place called Mango Six.

Where Cha Eun Sang slaved. Where Young Do had once grabbed Rachel, in an entirely different manner. Where he'd threatened her, in an entirely different manner.

Rachel wasn't sure if he was just oblivious or bitingly cruel. What must it have taken him to go to Mango Six. And that irrational anger toward Myung Soo's film returned transferred to the boy in front of her.

"What the hell is this? You think this is funny?"

Rachel shoved the drink into his chest, and the plastic cup crumpled, and spilled all over his shirt.

There was a dreadful silence. He stared down at his chest, and she planned her escape.

She tried to edge away and he warningly said, "_Rachel_, if you even _try_ to run away..._I swear_, I **_HATE_** it when you do that!"

Rachel paused for a second, feeling bad, but then stuck her chin in the air defiantly.

"Whatever." She scoffed. Again, she started to move away, and he practically growled at her.

She had inched away a few steps, when he grabbed her and-dumped his drink all over her front.

It was _cold_. It was _so cold_. She gasped. It was seeping through her top. She flicked the ice off, and it _was so so cold._

She looked at him, and he looked regretful. He'd thrown food at people. He'd tripped Cha Eun Sang. He'd even thrown her into a pool. Of course he would do this.

She didn't bother saying a word to him. She headed straight for the bathroom.

She slammed the door behind her, but didn't hear it shut. She turned to look, and Young Do held it open, and let himself in.

She ignored him. _Fine_, she'd thrown it first. He'd _retaliated_. They were even. She suppressed the urge to rip into him.

She wet a towel and started to wipe some of the juice off. There was no point-her top was fully soaked and she'd need to take it off before it seeped into her bra.

"You have to leave." She kept her voice as flat as possible.

"Why?" He sounded offended.

She took a deep, calming breath before she answered, "Because I have to take this off, and I'm not doing it in front of you."

Instead of answering, he looked her right in the eyes as he took his own shirt off, revealing his sculpted stomach and chest.

Even though she was _deeply_ impressed, Rachel only said, "What are you doing?"

His eyebrows actually twitched at those words.

"What did I _say_ about that-"

"_I_. _Don't_. _Care_. What you said. I can say whatever I want. I can do whatever I want."

He glared at her, then shoved her out of the way, as he grabbed another towel, and started wiping his expansive, impressive chest off.

She was almost tempted to do it for him. He was so...tall...and exceptional...and beautiful in his own way. She wanted to run her fingers up and down his back, the way he always did to her.

Rachel shook her head. She was still mad at him. She tried wiping as much of the sticky sweet drink off, but she would need to take her bustier off. He'd doused her with an entire cup.

She didn't want to take it off in front of him. It would be too revealing.

After silently willing him to leave, and steadily cursing under her breath, Rachel was getting more frustrated. She took off her sweater, feeling too vulnerable. What was she supposed to do?

She turned away from him, trying to unzip herself…when he came up behind her and did it for her.

The atmosphere was charged. She could feel the tension, but she didn't want to address it. This was all way beyond what she was ready for. She didn't want to turn around either.

"Thanks." She murmured.

"Anytime." His voice was just as soft.

She had to do it like ripping off a band-aid. Quick and fast-she went to the sink, breaking the spell, and wiped herself off, deliberately ignoring his presence.

Thank god it hadn't soaked through her bra...but she couldn't just wear her sweater—it wouldn't provide ample coverage. She'd probably be arrested for indecency if she went out in public like that.

He'd started washing his sweater, but then had given up, and resorted to watching her.

It made her uncomfortable. And giddy.

"Stop looking at me."

"Why? You looked at me." He was always so logical.

"Because it's different."

"How, Rachel?"

"Because it is!" She was never logical.

She could hear him rummaging around.

She hadn't realized how close he'd come up to her, until he draped a white button down over her shoulders.

"Here, wear this. Sometimes I leave clothes here."

It was a Prada shirt. And it smelled like him. Rachel didn't question it, and quickly put it on. It was huge. It was like an unflattering dress.

She knew he was bigger than her, but never this big. She had to roll up the sleeves, and her shorts were invisible underneath it.

He appraised her and reached over to fix the collar, then buttoned the shirt for her, his hands lingering near the bottom.

He cocked his head and said, "Looks good."

"What are you going to wear?"

"I have other clothes."

"Then, put your shirt on. Don't just stand there like that."

"Does it bother you?"

"_Yes."_

"But you've seen me like this before..."

Rachel decided to cut to the chase.

"Why did you throw the drink on me?"

Young Do winced, "It was an instinctive reaction."

Rachel soldiered on, "And why did you get it from that horrible place? And why did you say everything is wrong yesterday? And why do you just disappear? And why were you so angry yesterday? You hate it when _I_ do some things, but I _hate_ it when _you_ do some things. And that's why I _always_ have to ask you, _what are you doing_?"

She'd grabbed his arm, by the bicep, and had punctuated those last four words by squeezing his arm.

"Young Do, you are frustrating me _so much_, and if you continue like this, I'm just going to end up hating you!"

Young Do had been quiet during this outburst, then grabbed her hand, and went out into the studio, tugging herl along.

They sat down, him in usual legs-wide-open, fists clenched, arms resting on his thighs. She folded herself up next to him.

He turned to look at her and he leaned and gave her a brush of his lips against her cheek, "Why do you always look so scared around me?" he murmured.

"Because you are scary. Didn't you hear _anything_ I just said?"

He laughed, "I guess I can't change my stripes."

He suddenly moved toward her and rested his head on her shoulder.

His hair was so silky and smelled nice. She absently wondered if she smelled as good as he did all the time.

Rachel could feel her own pulse, so she knew he definitely could. He lifted his head, and his eyes were red.

"Young Do, what...?"

"I'm trying to be better. But I'm still ...I hate my fath-...You've seen my father. You've seen what he is. And now I've gone from being completely disregarded and now...I have all this power."

Rachel only nodded. She wanted him to keep talking.

"You say you're frustrated, Rachel? I'm frustrated and furious all the time_. All the time_. That's why everything is wrong. And then...I'm happy with my mom...but then I think...is this my life? My father treated me like a dog. Worse than a dog. And I'm not...I'm...just...things are better...but also not.

"Sometimes I _really_ hate my life, Rachel. But now I have my mom.

"And you. But you _always_ run away from me. Instead of facing things, you _run_. And then you ask me _why_ I get angry?

"A month ago, instead of asking me about _myself_, you ask me about _Cha Eun Sang_? And then? _Nothing_. You run away. And then? You get into a fight, you lose control like I used to, and you don't even _come to me_. You don't even ask me for help. You like my shoulders. You always find some excuse to touch them, but you can't lean on them?"

Rachel gaped at him. "I..."

He didn't let her finish, "And then you turn up in a club, of all places. Dancing with a guy that isn't me. Laughing. Touching _his_ shoulders. And you didn't even _notice_ me. Until I came up to you. Thank god your friend has some sense."

Rachel couldn't really process anything...

"Young Do-"

He held up a finger to shush her, "No! Let me finish."

He took hold of her waist, and lifted her into his lap.

"And then...you...don't appreciate anything I say or do...you run away again...and then have the audacity..._such_ audacity...to kiss me like _that_...and then again...leaving me like _that_"

Rachel would have protested at this statement, except he'd dipped his head, and kissing his way up her neck, he bit her earlobe.

She couldn't breathe. She clasped onto his bare shoulders. His. Bare. Shoulders.

"Young Do..." she breathed.

"Hmm?" He was now preoccupied with the area under her ear.

"Young _Do_..."

"Hmmmm?"

"What do you mean? Kissing you like what...? Leaving you like what?"

He looked at her and then kissed her chin, and whispered, "You wear _that_ dress. I've seen you in and out of your clothes. But _that_ dress...and then...you come to me _on your knees_...and then you...dare me to come find you?"

Rachel swallowed. Audibly.

Hearing it from his point of view made everything she did sound..._sexy_. Oh. Dear. God.

She hadn't gone to him on her knees like _that…_her legs had been weak! _He'd _done that to her legs.

"I didn't come to you _on my knees_" she hissed the last part, "Stop making it sound so..._inappropriate_!"

He frowned and bit her chin and _she_ bit down a yelp.

"That's another thing. Every time I say something...you call it inappropriate. You think I say that stuff to everyone? I only say it to you because I mean it. Because I want to...do it to you. Because I like you."

There was a beat where Rachel did a fantastic impression of a cucumber. She just sat there. Like a cucumber.

Inside, she was flailing and screaming at his words. Outside, she tried to form her own words. The only thing she could say was nothing. She couldn't say _anything_. She was a cucumber.

He watched her amusedly, and said "I told you to prepare yourself. I told you. And I still have to teach you a few things. Now, if you're done gaping at me, let's continue…so, where did you learn to bite ears?"

"Magazines," she found herself absurdly answering.

His eyes narrowed, "Why magazines, when you have me to teach you?"

* * *

By the time Myung Soo slunk back in, Rachel had finished the paper. Young Do had finally left…leaving her with bruises blooming all over her neck, and her legs feeling like jelly. She wasn't sure how he mustered up the energy to walk.

She also didn't want to know how he knew _things_. But _he knew_. And while he'd done nothing but _kiss _her…it was…there were no words. No words.

As a form of apology, Myung Soo invited her to a party he was having the following weekend. No one invited her to events anymore, so it was a nice gesture.

Young Do later told her he'd be there too. And he wanted her to be there too.

* * *

Rachel had decided on a white turtle neck croptop (there were still marks on her neck) and a flared white leather skirt. She wore hot pink studded Valentinos, and matched her lips.

She felt good, she looked good.

She should've known Kim Tan and Cha Eun Sang would be there.

It didn't matter. Young Do would be there soon. She didn't have to associate with them. And she was having an okay enough time. Myung Soo had greeted her warmly, and she'd had an awkward conversation with Lee Bo Na. It was okay enough.

Until Kim Tan.

* * *

She was sitting in the corner, watching everyone, in between checking her phone, when she felt someone come stand in front of her.

She looked up and it was Kim Tan. "Rachel, oh Rachel."

Rachel was shocked, but then got over it. She stood up to walk away.

She was very secluded in this area, and she didn't want to spend more time with Kim Tan than necessary.

"Don't wanna talk? Last time you were ready to give me everything. Trying to get my attention? Not anymore? Did you find someone else?" His voice was mocking.

Rachel didn't respond.

She moved to the right, and he blocked her way.

When Choi Young Do had done that to Cha Eun Sang she'd ended up in the water. What would happen to Rachel?

"Not so fast. I'm not done talking. You ruined my life, you know. Because of you...I've had so much trouble..."

She couldn't believe her ears. Was he still talking about this? Hadn't he gotten the girl he wanted? Hadn't he gotten _everything_ he wanted? What more could he possibly want?

She needed to get away from him though. She tried to walk past him again, and again he blocked her.

"Too good to talk? You're not gonna answer me?"

Rachel started to realize that Kim Tan was a little drunk. Of course.

Finally she spoke, "Get _out_ of my way."

"Make me. You couldn't make me do anything then, and you won't be able to now. And you know why? Because you're terrible, Rachel. _You're a bitch_." He spat the last words out.

She'd flinched at those words, yet she chose not to respond.

He was an absolute maniac...but...was he _right_?

She'd accused Young Do of being an asshole, when a real life roaring, raging anal sphincter actually stood right in front of her.

Young Do was brutal, he was vicious, he was cruel-but he'd never ever done this to Rachel.

Rachel, again, tried to step around Kim Tan, and he finally let her go.

Just as she was congratulating herself on not engaging, Kim Tan stuck his foot out, tripping her-and she would have fallen smack on her knees, if strong arms hadn't caught her.

"Young Do made Cha Eun Sang kneel, so you tried to return the favor?" She'd seen Myung Soo serious, but never this upset. He looked furious.

"Ya, Myung Soo, stay out of it. Or...does she have her claws in you too now?" Kim Tan's voice was vicious.

He counted off on his fingers, "Kim Tan, Lee Hyo-Shin, Choi Young Do, and now Jo Myung Soo. Rachel, you sure move around _a lot_."

Rachel shrugged away from Myung Soo and turned to face Kim Tan. "You're even more pathetic that I thought."

"But you're the pathetic one, Rachel. Don't you remember our last kiss? That's _how_ pathetic you are."

She was stunned into silence. How could he...

He turned to Myung Soo and said, "Deny her what she wants and she'll throw herself at you. You could snap your fingers, and she'd do anything. Keep that in mind, Myung Soo-ah. You could get her to do _anything_. That's how desperate she is."

Rachel felt a ringing in her ears. She'd never done _anything_ with him. She'd only kissed him…

Kim Tan made a point of sighing loudly and continued, "Maybe I should have played with her longer. Girls like her are_ made_ for these games. That's why Young Do's playing with her. I've known him a long, long time. She's gonna be less than trash by the time he gets done with her."

"Ya! Kim Tan!" She heard Myung Soo yell.

Tunnel vision. Her blood now roaring in her ears, once again, Rachel found herself only staring at Kim Tan through tunnel vision.

How had she ever thought he was good looking? How had she ever imagined kissing him? How had she ever liked him? How could he say these things? He was truly repulsive. Rotten to the core.

The last person to shake her this badly had been Ye Sol.

He wasn't Ye Sol, he was even more worthless. And then she remembered-his mother and Ye Sol's mother were friends.

Later she would feel shame burn deep through her for days when she'd think about her next words.

But cruel words, along with the hurt and humiliation, were all she had for now.

Rachel had been Kim Tan's fiancé after all. She'd learned a certain way with words _from him_.

He wasn't Ye Sol, so he deserved even worse.

"You saw what I did to Ye Sol, Tan. And I should do the same to you. You two are so much alike: your mothers are no better than whores."

"You _fucking_ bitch-"

The only thing she registered next was that Kim Tan's face had contorted with rage, and he'd barreled towards Rachel, but Myung Soo had grabbed him, and someone else was leading her away, Kim Tan still yelling in the background.

Rachel was numb. She felt like she'd left her body. She claimed autonomy over her own actions-but _this_ is what Kim Tan did-had done to her.

She always _always_ went down to Tan's level.

Rachel felt shame. Deep seated shame. She thought of Young Do and how he talked about _his mother_, and she nearly collapsed with guilt.

_This_ is what Kim Tan did to her. He'd _always_ done this to her.

She wanted...Young-no, he couldn't see her like this.

Reduced to this hideous, awful person who did and said such things.

She didn't cry. She couldn't cry. She felt humiliation wash over her. And then she'd started crying, fat tears rolling down her face.

Rachel covered her face with her hands.

She wanted her mother. And ask her for her forgiveness.

She wanted her father. And ask him for his forgiveness.

She wanted...no, she couldn't face him like this.

She realized it was Chan Young who had pulled her and walked her to the other side of the room, into a smaller room, away from the crowd, calling for Lee Bo Na to help as he did so.

Bo Na sat next to Rachel, and let her cry, hugging her. She always wore Chanel No. 5 to parties.

Rachel wanted to go home. She wanted to go home with-she felt someone heavier sit down on her other side.

And then _he_ was there. Now he would see her like this.

Lee Bo Na gave her a kiss on the head, and got up, leaving behind the scent of her perfume.

Young Do gathered her into his lap, and made cooing noises and stroked her hair.

"Shhh. Shhh. It's okay. It's okay." He continued to soothe her.

She hid her face in his shoulder. She didn't want to see anyone. She knew Bo Na and Chan Young had seen as they were leaving.

"Rachel, shhh, Rachel...it's alright. Do you want to tell me what happened?" He was handling her so gently, and she felt unworthy of his kindness, which brought a fresh wave of tears.

She was in no condition to tell him anything.

She shook her head against his shoulder, and he said, "Okay, okay, you're fine. You're fine. I'm here. I'm here."

She didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve anything.

Young Do shifted her in his lap, and someone-Bo Na came back in, and Rachel could tell he was trying to ask Bo Na what happened.

Rachel heard her ramble "Umm...uh...Kim Tan...uh...oh, let me find Chan Young!" And she ran.

Rachel would have to tell Young Do. She would have to tell him herself.

He would hate her forever. How _could_ she say that about someone's mom?

Rachel lifted her head from his shoulder, and he wiped a tear from her cheek.

He gave her a glass of water and said, "Drink this, and then tell me what happened."

She obeyed, thirstily gulping it down. She wiped her mouth when she was done, but couldn't stop tears rolling down her cheeks again.

"Rachel," he laughed disbelievingly "what happened? You're making me nervous."

Rachel took a deep breath, and in a shaky voice said, "I'm a bad person. I'm sorry I'm so...so...I'm a bitch. I say terrible things to you. I'm terrible."

He laughed again, nervous. "Is that why you're crying? It's fine...I've said worse things to you..."

"I called Kim Tan's mother a whore." She blurted.

She waited for his reaction.

He looked nonplussed, and opened his mouth, and then closed it, and then opened it again.

She burst into fresh tears, covering her face again, wailing, "I'm a terrible person. I deserve all this shit in my life. I'm bad. I'm a bad person. That's why God punishes me. I _deserve_ punishment. That's why my father left me. That's why..." and she couldn't continue on, racked with sobs.

"Wait, Rachel, wait, wait, _wait_...what are you talking about?" He sounded frustrated.

She was gone. She couldn't stop crying, Kim Tan's words still ringing in her ears.

Young Do shifted her again, and made her lean into him again, so he was holding her against his shoulder.

She felt him moving around, and then he was on the phone.

"Ya, Myung Soo, where are you? Yeah. Yeah, she's here. With me. In the back. Yeah. No, she ran. Okay."

He hung up.

"Myung Soo's coming, Rachel."

Rachel wiped her face, and tried to meet his eyes, but couldn't.

It was better if he heard it from her.

She buried her face in his neck, mumbling against it, "I was sitting. I was waiting for...you. And then Kim Tan came, and he was drunk and then he said things. And then I...I said things...And then Chan Young took me away."

She felt him stiffen, as he asked "_Wha_t things did Kim Tan say to you?"

"I can't...I don't want to repeat it. Just stupid things. But you heard what I said to him."

"You wouldn't be crying all over me like this if he said 'just stupid things'. _Tell me_. What did he say?" She didn't miss the steel in his voice.

What could she tell him? How could she repeat any of it?

"What about what I said? That was bad."

"I'm not saying it wasn't, but I'd like to know what compelled you to say it."

Rachel finally summoned the courage to look at him, and there wasn't one ounce of friendliness in his face.

She felt her lip trembling, and he muttered, "Aish" quietly, and dipped his head and kissed her, deliberate and slow, except she couldn't stop the tears.

"Better?" He asked gently, after a few moments. His face was wet from her tears.

Her face burning, her stomach churning, she could only nod, tears _still_ leaking down her face.

He examined her face, his full of concern, and then leaned forward to kiss her again, this time opening his mouth over hers.

Rachel wanted to forget everything and everyone, and focus only on him. Only on Young Do. Even if she didn't deserve him.

She put her arms around his shoulders, and he adjusted her on his lap, deepening the kiss.

She responded, her crying subsiding a bit, until she heard a throat clearing.

She pulled away from him mid-kiss, and didn't miss the flash of absolute irritation cross his face as she did.

Myung Soo had come into the room, but they'd both been too...busy to notice.

Although every cell in her body was telling her to, Rachel fought the instinct to run into the bathroom.

Even though it was wet, her face was on fire.

Young Do had told her she had the reflexes of a cat, so she used them to scramble out of his lap, and hide behind his broad back, essentially using him as a shield.

His sigh spoke volumes.

And then he leaned heavily back on her, so she was suffocating because he was...so...heavy.

She knew he was trying to lighten the situation.

"What a comfortable pillow."

"Young Do..." She said plaintively.

"It talks too! I wonder what else it does."

Myung Soo looked at the two of them, confused.

It was bizarre how Young Do could change her mood so quickly: she'd gone from a crying wreck to...this.

Rachel squirmed, and he pushed her back even further.

"Ignore her. So. Since Rachel _won't_ tell me. You tell me. What happened, Myung Soo?" All humor had disappeared from his voice.

Myung Soo hesitated, and looked at Rachel, who'd been peering at him wide eyed over Young Do's shoulder.

"Jo Myung Soo, don't look at her. Look at me. What the fuck happened that you two can't tell me?"

Both Rachel and Myung Soo flinched at his tone.

Myung Soo rubbed his eyebrow...and then with barely suppressed anger said, "Kim Tan has seriously lost it. He's a crazy bastard."

Rachel could feel Young Do tense up.

"Oh _really_? What did he do?" His voice had gone quiet.

Myung Soo looked at Rachel, and then at Young Do, and they seemed to be communicating silently, because then Young Do turned around, and basically lifted her next to him.

"Do you want to be here when he tells me?" He asked her gently, "I'll let you willingly run away this once."

Thickly, her tears returning, she said, "No. I want to be here."

He examined her face, and then nodded.

Normally she would have ripped him apart for even suggesting such a thing. For even implying that she needed to leave because the conversation was 'unpleasant'.

Except this time, she let it go.

She was morbidly curious about how Young Do would react.

The numbness returned.

Respect was very important to Rachel.

If she couldn't respect someone, they were useless. They had no purpose in life.

She never thought of Jo Myung Soo. She never took him into account.

But...after hearing him relay what happened, with such fortitude, she couldn't help but respect him.

Rachel had hidden her face in Young Do's back, her hands wrapped around his stomach, throughout Myung Soo's horrifically detailed account.

He'd heard everything.

Rachel could tell Young Do was controlling himself, mainly because she was clinging to him.

When Myung Soo was done, there was a deafening silence.

Young Do's back was completely rigid. If they'd been alone, she would have given him a back rub.

She was a wreck.

She'd never seen Myung Soo look so enraged.

Even Chan Young and Bo Na had looked disturbed.

She didn't know or care where Eun Sang had been during all of this.

And now Young Do felt like a rock against her. A warm, muscular rock.

And Kim Tan was the source of it all.

What had she done to Kim Tan that made him act this way? What had she done that was so bad? What had she done other than like him, if only briefly?

She wondered why he'd said such...vile things...

And Young Do wouldn't play with her, and then discard her. He wasn't Kim Tan. Young Do outright declared war, he didn't do anything covertly.

Kim Tan was just truly...the most depraved, disgusting, filthy human being she'd ever had the misfortune to cross paths with.

Myung Soo was sitting with his head hanging low, his hands balled into fists. He got up slowly, and saluted to Young Do.

They did that wordless communication again, and with a nod and a half-smile directed at Rachel, Myung Soo left.

Young Do sighed, and leaned into her again. She hugged him around the shoulders, and kissed the side of his neck.

Him being there made her feel safe.

After a few moments, he turned around and said, "I'll take you home."

She felt drained, so she only nodded.

He stood up, and then helped her off the sofa. Her skirt had ridden up, and he straightened it for her, his hands lingering on her hips.

He stared down at her, and then drew her into a hug, his arms enclosing her shoulders.

She was going to start crying again.

He kissed her head, and then holding her hand, walked out of the room.

* * *

She almost fell asleep on the car ride home. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, threatened her eyelids, but she fought sleep.

She rested her head against his shoulder.

When they pulled up to her house, he got out of the car to walk her to her door.

It was a beautiful night, and the full moon was out.

Rachel wasn't a Romantic, but she could see the stars tonight, and they'd never looked prettier. Especially after all the ugliness she'd just witnessed.

She'd been looking at the sky; he'd been looking at her.

It was late at night, and her street was deserted, but he took her hand and led her to the side garden.

They were bathed in the moonlight, and he looked exceptionally...beautiful. There wasn't a less flowery way to say it.

He leaned down and kissed her...very delicately.

"Your mom's not here, is she?"

Rachel felt her heart thump loudly.

"No...she's not."

A look of regret crossed his face, and he kissed her again.

"I would ask you to stay at Zeus. But there are renovations in my suite. And my mom's not here either, otherwise I'd bring you to her place." He whispered against her mouth.

"I could stay with you, but I have to take care of something." He kissed her again, this time nibbling on her lip.

"I don't want you to be alone." He continued, brushing his lips against hers, with each word, and it was soothing.

She felt half-destroyed and scared, and she didn't want to be alone either. But she didn't tell him. She kissed him instead.

"It's okay, Young Do-ah, I'm used to be being alone." She tried to sound convincing.

He looked doubtful, but reciprocated the kiss, his tongue touching hers.

"I have to take care of something, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Actually, I'll walk you inside."

She didn't want him to go, but she kissed him goodbye soundly.

"I'm sorry for everything that happened tonight. I'm so sorry. I'll see you later" were his parting words, after he'd kissed her back, just as soundly.

* * *

A few hours later, she woke up from a fitful sleep to a loud banging on her bedroom door.

Frightened out of her wits, she cautiously opened the door...to find her maid in a similar state...hysterical...standing next to a bloodied up Young Do.


	15. Darkest, Unhappiest Secret

Rachel felt the world shift beneath her feet, her sleepiness completely vanquished. "What are you—wha-? Your face! What happened to you?!" she choked out.

His face bruised, yet irritated, he simply looked down at her. And then barged into her room.

"Tell your maid to calm down…I know it's late. Tell her you know me."

Her limbs felt shaky, both from the shock of being jolted awake, as well as seeing his bloody condition.

Rachel was trembling, "Chae Lee, it's fine, I'm sorry for the trouble. Can you just get me towels and the first aid kit, please?"

The maid nodded, casting a petrified look in Young Do's direction, who had the nerve to flash her a cheeky grin—and between him, in general, his eyebrows, and his thoroughly bloody smile—Chae Lee sprinted away in fright.

His teeth were coated in blood, and Rachel felt dizzy. "Young Do, it's not enough that you scare me? Do you have to terrify the poor maids?"

He kept grinning impishly, and she wondered if he had a head injury, a concussion or something.

"I'm fine. You should see the other guy. Most of the blood is his."

The other guy? Kim Tan?

All the events of the night had apparently culminated in this disaster.

"Young Doooo, look at the state of you. Look at your face! You look totally barbaric." She was on the verge of tears.

"Don't cry. Just…don't…don't cry" his voice was near pleading.

She controlled herself, although the urge to burst into tears was overwhelming.

There was blood. A lot of blood. But it wasn't the blood that disturbed her. Not completely.

(No girl could say she was truly bothered by the sight of blood. That was just nonsensical.)

Rachel was a testament to that—she had just confronted it an hour ago. It explained her unstoppable crying earlier. And the threat of it now.

So, it wasn't just the blood. It was his face, his handsome face—it was ravaged. There was no other way to describe it.

There were bloody bruises across his cheekbones, a possible black eye, but his mouth, the mouth she had kissed just a few hours ago, it was the worst:

His mouth, with his soft kissable lips, was dripping blood. And it would soon land on the floor.

That snapped her out of her horror.

"Tchaaaa, come into the bathroom."

She took his hand, and he complied.

In the bright lights of her well-lit bathroom, the damage was even more apparent.

She held back a whimper when she saw him. She was already in physical pain, and seeing his wounds only amplified the shooting aches in her lower body. It was always her waist and her legs. Never her stomach.

She made him sit down in a Lucite chair, and took one of her own face towels and wet it. She attempted to wipe off the blood from his cheek, but abruptly stopped when he cringed.

"You…you do it, I'm just going to hurt you." She felt disoriented both by him and the time of night.

He shook his head, "I'm fine. Keep going." He said quietly.

Rachel tried to be as gentle as possible, and cleaned him up as best as she could.

There was a knock, and she called for her maid to enter, taking the first aid kit from her.

She didn't know the first thing about this—she never really got hurt. Physically.

"Should we wash your face with soap first? To clean it?"

Even under these circumstances, the look he shot her was priceless. "No! You don't _use soap_. You use alcohol."

This was becoming too unpleasant. What if she accidentally rubbed his eye? Or infected the wounds?

He could see her hesitation, and assured her, "Rachel, I've been hurt before. You know I have. Just clean them with the alcohol, slap some bandages on, and call it a day."

"Getting hurt in karate is different!"

He was so offended, he sputtered, "Karate? I practice judo, not karate!"

Rachel just frowned, "Same thing" she muttered under her breath.

He glared at her. "I heard you. It's not the same thing. And I'm not talking about judo. You know what I'm talking about."

She stilled, as his words registered—and bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She carefully cleaned him up, and he'd gone quiet.

His eyelids kept fluttering, and she smoothed his brow when she was done, and he caught her hand and kissed her wrist.

There was no question of him going home. He told her he'd come here on his motorbike. He had no sense. Whatsoever

He couldn't sleep in her bathroom though.

And he still needed to wash out his mouth—he told her he bit his tongue. Or he'd been hit hard enough that he ended up biting it.

She tried to haul him up, he was easily twice her size, and was only successful when he got up of his own accord. She handed him a toothbrush, and he winced when he washed out his mouth, but then he was fine.

She was swaying on her feet by this point, and the silence loomed in on them.

After his ministrations, he turned to her, pale and exhausted, "Can I sleep with you?"

She paused before answering. She knew what the words actually meant, and what they could…no, what they would come to mean, but for now she only nodded.

She wanted to crawl back into bed, as standing for so long was becoming unbearable.

They walked into her darkened bedroom, and stood in front of her bed.

He blinked at her sleepily, and then slowly took off his shirt. He was wearing a tank top underneath…no, boys didn't wear tank tops…an undershirt?

He looked down at his pants, then back at her, and she couldn't be bothered to do anything but look back.

He unbuckled his belt, but kept his pants on, and she thought of offering him some of her loosest ones to him.

"No, they're not gonna fit, dummy." His voice was deeper than usual, laced with sleep.

She hadn't realized she'd been talking out loud. She was heading towards delirium.

"They could, if you tried."

He just shook his head, and took her hand, and they both settled in her bed.

He lay on his back, closing his eyes immediately, She examined his profile, and her jaw tightened. This was all Kim Tan's doing.

A spasm of pain distracted her from her thoughts.

Periods were the worst, and the pain in her legs would only get worse.

She curled up tightly in a fetal position, trying to alleviate some of the pain, and shuddered slightly.

He turned to his side, and she could hear the ragged exhaustion in his voice, as he opened one eye, and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm having my period." She whispered. She wouldn't hide it.

She could see the confusion on his face, but he whispered, "I'm…sorry. Does it…hurt?"

She smiled, despite herself: he was cute. "You have a bruise developing, right?"

He nodded. He would most likely wake up with a black eye in the morning.

"Imagine that bruise. And it's painful to touch, right? Imagine someone pressing that bruise. Hard."

He made a face.

"It's like that, but a 1000 times more excruciating. Other girls get stomach cramps. I only get back pain."

"I'm sorry" he said, again.

Rachel laughed softly, what was he sorry for? It had nothing to do with him. "You're sweet. Is your…face hurting?"

His eyes had been closing longer with each blink.

"Mmmm, it's fine. Don't worry."

She didn't believe him; she started to succumb to sleep too.

Another spasm of pain shot across her waist, and she inhaled sharply. The first day was the absolute worst for her.

She turned the other way, grabbing onto an extra pillow to hold against her tightly.

"Where does it hurt?" His voice was muffled against the pillow.

"My lower back. And my legs."

She didn't know he managed it, but he lay his heavy leg across her curled up one, and the weight of it was so comforting.

She let out a sigh.

The other thing she remembered before falling asleep was his hand on her lower back, massaging away the pain.

* * *

For the second time that night Rachel was jolted out of her sleep.

This time by her phone.

She peered at it groggily—it was an unknown number. She felt uneasiness settle deep in her bones.

"Yeo—yeoboseyo?" She whispered softly.

"What color is your underwear?"

Relief coursed through her. She should've saved Johnny's number.

Her heart felt like it was in her throat, but still she teased, "The ones you got me—black with the word Friday in glitter."

"Oh, you rebel! It's Saturday over there…isn't it? If only they came in men's sizes."

"You can wear mine anytime. I'm sure they'll fit."

He snickered, but then his voice turned serious, "How is everything?"

* * *

After Young Do had left, as if on cue, Rachel's mother had called. Except it wasn't Omma. It had been Johnny.

She'd told him the whole story, after swearing him to secrecy about not telling Omma.

She didn't like keeping things from her mother, but this would only end in disaster.

"Rachel. Oh my god, Rachel. I'm…I'm so…so…sorry. I'm sorry that happened. I'm sorry I'm not there. I wish…are you alone? I would fly out, but I'm headed to London tomorrow." He sounded upset.

She'd assured him she was fine, even though she felt…scared. Maybe she should've forced Young Do to stay with her.

"He was really nice to me. Really nice."

"Well, of course he was, Rachel."

"No, he was nice in the way you are. He didn't want to leave me alone, but he had to do something."

"Oh, Rachel. I really wish I could be there. Can you…can you call Choi Young Do? If you get scared, can you please call him? For me? I'm older than you, I'm your actual oppa, so I'm giving you permission. I'll take care of all that other stuff. But if you get scared, please just call him, okay?"

Johnny was giving her permission to call Young Do to stay over if she needed. That was something that didn't happen everyday.

"Okay, I will. If I need to. I just feel tired, so I'm gonna try to sleep. I'll talk to you later."

She fell asleep. Only after getting her period. A really positive end to the night.

And then she was woken up by Young Do…

* * *

"Everything is…okay. Young Do is here." She whispered.

"Oh, he came?"

"Yes…"

There was silence.

"Is he with you?"

Her heart pounding, Rachel told him the truth. "He's sleeping next to me."

Another silence. Rachel waited anxiously for Johnny's reply.

"I see…"

She cringed, and then gulped, "Please don't be mad. Please. It's not like that. I think he…I don't know…he showed up about an hour ago, and he was bleeding, Johnny. He was bleeding. Like, all over his face."

She continued, breathlessly, "I didn't ask him yet, but I think something happened…with Kim Tan…and I'm scared. I don't know what happened. But he got…hurt, Johnny. He got hurt…because of…me. And I'm scared. I wish you or Omma…that's why I'm glad he's here, Johnny. I'm still freaked out by what happened with Kim Tan. It wasn't normal, Johnny, it wasn't normal. And now…Young Do…" she could hear the panic in her own voice.

She heard Johnny sigh and exhale, "Rachel, don't be scared, okay? Please. I won't tell your Omma, but if I have to, I'll try to come back, okay? And…although I cannot believe I'm saying this…but I'm glad he's there. Just don't do anything stupid."

"I won't. But his face…Johnny. His face. And I got my period too. I just…I just feel like I'm having a heart attack. His face, Johnny." She'd started crying softly.

"Rachel, no, don't, Rachel, please don't cry. I'm sure he's fine. Rachel, he's a big guy, he can handle himself. Don't discredit him. And just take care of yourself. Okay?"

She quieted a little. "I'm not, Johnny. I'm not discrediting him. But he had blood all over his teeth. And I think he might be getting a black eye. I don't know if he has any other bruises. But I just don't feel good about any of this."

"That's because you're in shock, Rachel. I shouldn't have woken you up. Go back to sleep, and call me when you wake up properly. And if anything…anything happens with Kim Tan, you will give me a call." His voice had hardened at the last part.

She let out a shaky breath. "Okay. I will…to both things." It was better to ask Johnny about her niggling worry. "But, Johnny, what if…what if Young Do has a concussion or something?

"What if he dies next to me, because of a head injury? And I let him sleep!"

"Rach—", she heard his intake of breath, "unless he…I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a concussion. That's the dumb—okay, check if he's breathing. Stay on the phone with me, and tell me if he's breathing."

She cradled the phone to her shoulder and then peered at Young Do in the dark. He looked peaceful. She got closer, and he stirred a little.

He was definitely breathing.

"He moved, Johnny."

"Good. He moved? So he's breathing. He's alive, then? Good. He practices judo, Rachel. He told me. He can definitely hold his own. He does not have a concussion. I am positive."

"When did he tell you that? And he got mad when I said it was karate.  
Also. Only fools are positive."

"Go to sleep, Rachel. You're not making sense anymore. Love you."

"Love you too. And you're not making any sense" She couldn't help countering.

"No, you aren't."

"No, you aren't"

"No, you aren't!"

"No! You aren't!" Rachel whisper-screamed, but then Young Do stirred again.

She abruptly shut up.

"No, you aren't, Rachel. By the way, what are you wearing?"

"Pajamas."

"Good. Don't you dare wear any of your slips."

_He's seen me in less_, Rachel thought to herself wryly, but she only said "Okay. I won't."

"Alright, goodbye for real this time, sweetie. Call me when you wake up. Love you."

"Love you, too." They hung up.

Talking to Johnny on a nearly daily basis would be a welcome change from talking to him on a yearly basis.

The silence was eerie. She'd felt a little cheered up, but now all the events of the night came rushing back.

She shivered. Her nose was turning cold, even though it wasn't chilly.

Young Do had rolled over on his stomach.

Looking at him also made her shiver. He was sleeping with her. Well, not with her-with her. But he was there.

And she was glad.

She dove under the comforters, and snuggled against him. She was still uneasy, but she had Johnny.

She rubbed her nose against his back. God, she was no better than a puppy. But she had Young Do.

* * *

Johnny had slept in Rachel's bed countless times, and he always complained that she took up too much space.

He usually ended up grumbling and sleeping on the floor or in the guest rooms.

Rachel was annoyed. This time Johnny was taking up too much space. He seemed to have expanded, because she was near the edge of her bed.

This was the third time she woke up, and it was early morning, around 5, and she had a good few hours to sleep in.

Eyes closed, she kicked at him, and he ignored her. Half-asleep, Rachel turned to push him away, whining, "Johnnyyyyyyyy" when she made contact with his back.

His bare back. His bare back. His bare back, which was broader than she remembered. His bare back, which wasn't actually Johnny's bare back, but Young Do's. Young Do's!

Rachel opened her eyes, and realized with a jolt…it was Young Do. Choi Young Do was sleeping next to her, not Johnny.

She'd been hugging his back, and apparently sometime after that, Young Do had decided to discard his undershirt.

Rachel sat up slowly to get a closer look—he was sprawled on his stomach, diagonally across her bed, his arms hugging his pillow. No wonder she had no space.

She could see now, his face was bruising in certain places, including the area near his eye, and blood was dried in the corner of his mouth.

Still, he looked relaxed. He looked…pretty, almost.

"Prettier than you," Nasty Rachel was awake and thriving at this hour. It was true though.

She was pretty, she knew. But it took effort to maintain it. Whereas, Choi Young Do, looked just as good in a t-shirt, the very few times she'd seen him, as he did in a suit.

It wasn't fair.

Also, why had he taken off his shirt. Johnny also always slept shirtless, and she found it…icky. Didn't it bother their skin? What if the sheets were scratchy or less than 800 count?

Annoyed, she tried to adjust herself around him, until sensing her movements, he woke up. Frowning.

All her annoyance fled. She hoped he didn't leave. And then squashed that hope.

He peeked at her with one eye, "Are you awake?"

"No…but can you move over a little?"

He nodded and then rolled over more to the side, the comforter sliding off him, revealing him…only in his boxers.

He'd also taken off his pants. She'd seen his boxers. His stomach above his waistband. His hard stomach.

"Pyontae!" Nasty Rachel shouted at her. He was definitely not…icky.

Rachel gulped again, and turned to her side, away from him, blushing.

She'd seen him shirtless, but his body was…goodness, his body was…she wanted to run her hands all over it.

Rachel was thankful the sun hadn't fully filtered through her bedroom yet. It was still a little dark.

Hopefully, he didn't notice her reaction. Or have mind reading abilities.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and stayed still—he'd fallen asleep, she could hear his deep breathing. Then she fell asleep. Still thinking about his body.

* * *

The final time she woke up, she knew there was no going back to sleep.

Young Do was starting to sit up, and so she sat up too. She glanced at the clock—it was 10:15.

He looked at her, his expression grave. "I'm gonna take a shower. Should I use the guest room?"

Her nerves were back. "Are you leaving?" She couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice.

He was in the middle of pulling on his pants, and he paused, studying her face.

"No…no, I'm not." He said slowly, his brow furrowed.

It had been too chaotic a night to keep her emotions in check—she never wore her mask with him anymore.

She let relief wash over her, and answered, "Yes, you can use the guest room."

He nodded, and then pulled his shirt on. Indeed, he had a black eye. And bruises across his cheekbone.

She hadn't missed another bruise…right by his stomach. Before he'd pulled his shirt on.

He saw her expression, and his face cleared a bit. "I'll be back, okay?"

She nodded.

* * *

Under the hot steam of her own shower, Rachel couldn't help thinking of him. Taking a shower. Not wearing clothes. With his back. And his stomach. And his legs. And his waist. And his stomach. And his shoulders. And he wouldn't be wearing his boxers.

Rachel mentally slapped herself.

He'd been unruffled and normal throughout the night. She was the one acting like a hormonal boy.

She was so…so…silly. There were other things to focus on.

* * *

Rachel had composed herself by the time she'd gotten dressed.

She'd thrown on her most comfortable dress, a soft pink Miu Miu baby doll dress. Only after she'd put it on did she realize it was similar to the color she'd worn when he'd said she was his type, mockingly, of course.

She idly wondered if she actually was his type. Well, he'd kissed her enough times, type or no type.

She was putting on mascara when there was a knock on her door, and she said, "Come in."

Young Do, despite his night, looked well rested. Except for the bruises of course.

He took in her appearance, as he sat down on her bed. He didn't say anything. He hadn't styled his hair, but had brushed it to the side.

She felt flustered, and too aware of him. He was watching her apply her mascara as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

She finished quickly, not bothering to do anything more under his scrutiny, applying nothing other than some lip balm.

She could feel his gaze on her back as she went inside her shoe closet.

"You have…a lot of shoes." He'd followed her in. He didn't sound impressed though, more like scolding. He was irritated about…something.

She didn't have to justify herself. Or her shoe habits. "Are you kidding me? You have 5 of the same pair of Tod's. One pair alone is 425,000 won."

He rolled his eyes.

She looked over at all her shoes. Her mother had accused her of being depressed. "No normal person shops this much."

It was true. For the past 6 months she'd bought a new pair each week. It was beginning to sicken her. But she couldn't stop.

Last week, she'd put in an order for 10 Dipthyque candles. She didn't even like candles. She just…couldn't stop…there was a void she couldn't fill.

She picked a pair of classic pink Repetto flats she'd gotten in Paris.

"You have such small feet." He'd sat down in one of her customized gold chairs.

Compared to him, everything about her was small. She shrugged, "They're not that small…"

She'd gone through a ballerina phase, and had three other pairs, for times like these: her legs and feet were beginning to hurt. She sat down on the floor and put her shoes on.

She'd had a soft plush pink carpet installed, creating a little haven. In the beginning days of when her father left, she would just lie down and stare at the ceiling, which she'd had painted to resemble a starry sky.

She didn't have as many shoes back then.

He watched her, heavy-lidded, and his black eye seemed more  
pronounced. "You're so…you're like a doll. I know that sounds weird. But you're so…pretty. So delicate. You need to be handled with care." His voice was hushed, as if in awe.

She stilled at his words. They were odd, but…she was hooked. No one talked about her this way. No one handled her with care.

He slid off the chair and joined her on the floor, instantly shrinking the space.

He stared at her shoe collection, "And I thought I was organized. What's your favorite pair?"

He was always so interested in her things. So fascinated. But she liked it. He seemed genuinely intrigued by her things.

"Mostly all of them. But those and those and those." She pointed at various pairs.

He picked up a pair of glitter Miu Miu brogues. "I like these. Tiny feet." He shook his head amusedly.

Rachel couldn't help smiling. "Johnny got them for me, a few years ago."

He put the shoes down. Annoyance crossed his face. "Just what are you and Johnny?"

She was confused by the abrupt change in topic. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Young Do pursed his lips and said, "I mean…who is he? How do you know him?Did you ever go out with him?"

"Huh? He's a model…My mother has a clothing company. I've known him since I was 12. He's more like a brother. Why would I…go out with him?"

Young Do raised his eyebrow, "The way I was also like your brother?"

Rachel knew she was as red as a tomato. "No! No. No. Not like…you know it's…Not like you were. You were never…what are you talking about?"

He looked down, still holding the shoes, his mouth pouty. "I heard your phone conversation. You guys sound like you're…You woke up saying his name."

"I…saying his name? Don't make it sound like…Ew!"

Young Do quirked his eyebrows at that.

"Were you awake the whole time, Young Do? Was I that loud? Why didn't you tell me? And we sound like what?"

"Nothing, forget it. I was…awake. It wasn't intentional. I just…why did you think I had a concussion. Or that I would die?"

He'd heard everything? She blinked at him.

"Young Do, you kiss me good night. And the next thing, you're in my room, you're bleeding. And I don't know what happened to you. What if you'd had some sort of head injury? And I couldn't tell!"

"Rachel, no one gets head injuries from a few punches. It wasn't that serious." He sounded exasperated.

"Yes, it was! When is the last time you got into a fight?! You have a black eye, you idiot. I saw the bruise on your stomach!" Her voice wobbled.

He groaned and lay down on his back, covering his head with a cushion from the chair.

She yanked it off of him, and he glared at her. He then pulled her into his arms and spooned her. She couldn't help but notice how nicely she fit into him.

"I don't want you to get hurt because of me." Her voice was small.

He hugged her waist tighter. "Don't be upset. Please, don't be upset." His voice vibrated against her back.

She sniffled, "But you're…you have bruises! Your mouth was bleeding. You left blood on my pillow. Young Do, I don't want you to be hurt." She was trying not to cry.

His breath tickled her ear, "Listen, I was teasing you. I was awake, yes.  
But your friend Johnny is also incredibly loud. I could hear everything he was saying too. And he's right. Look at me! You think I'm such a lightweight?"

She sniffed loudly.

"And…are you really that scared about what happened, Rachel? That makes me really angry."

She turned in his arms to face him, her face fearful, "Why?"

"Because…it makes me want to rip Kim Tan apart. From limb to limb."

She hid her face in his chest, and his hand came to rest upon her back.

"Were you really that worried about me?" He asked softly.

She nodded her head.

"I'm fine, you know that, right?"

She raised her head to look at him, and ran a finger across his sharp  
cheekbone.

His black eye was hurting her.

"I know, but I just…I feel…I feel frightened. About everything."

He pursed his lips again, and said, "I know. That's why I had to have a chat with Kim Tan."

So it _had_ been Kim Tan. She looked up at him, and asked "What happened? Did you kill him?" She hadn't meant to say the last part out loud.

"Yes. That's what I did. I killed him. I killed Kim Tan." He rolled his eyes.

"I just had to go remind him of a few things—favors he owed me. Eventually, he remembered. I just had to try different techniques."

She didn't even want to begin to comprehend what the hell that meant.

"Who threw the first punch?"

Young Do looked upwards as if praying for patience, and then said, resignedly, "He did. So I had to persuade him to see things my way."

Rachel looked at him, trying to process what he'd said. "But…what about all your meetings? How are you going to go with a black eye?"

"I'll…I'll conference call them or something. Are you seriously worried about that?"

She shrugged against his chest, "Yes. It'll look bad. You're already young. And impetuous…"

There was silence. Oh dear, had she finally offended him? She lifted her head to look at him, and he was frowning again.

It bothered her. That frown. So she raised her head, and carefully kissed him on the lips.

He seemed surprised, because he remained motionless for a few seconds. Other than that very first time, she never initiated.

Just as she was ready to die of embarrassment, for he hadn't responded, he bit her bottom lip.

Apparently his tongue had healed, because he then used it…liberally.

After kissing quite diligently, they drew apart, their mouths rosy. He ran his thumb across her lower lip, a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"I know you told me there's nothing…but…why didn't you ever…with Johnny? He's a good looking guy…and you guys seem close…"

He was still on that. It was slightly endearing. Slightly.

Before she could answer, he continued, "And why do you think you're being punished? You said that…you said that's why your…dad left."

He moved his thumb to her chin, and held it.

Rachel's heart somersaulted. She bit her lip, summoning the courage before answering. This was her darkest, unhappiest secret.

"Johnny…Junghwan, that's his real name…we aren't like that…I've known him a long time…we just don't see each other like that…

"Because…when my father first tried to commit suicide…Johnny and I…we…we were the ones…who found him."


End file.
